


Forecast of Grey Skies

by Salty_Cro



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Autistic Duck Newton, Canon Rewrite, Duck Hunts Monsters Already, Duck Is An Aries, F/F, Holidays, M/M, Set Right Before Tree Arc, Trans Duck Newton
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-14
Updated: 2020-06-06
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:48:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 60,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21794806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Salty_Cro/pseuds/Salty_Cro
Summary: Duck Newton is a federal botanist, a casual gamer, a mediocre cook, and a monster hunter. The past couple hunts have been rough, especially with the addition of two new people from Amnesty Lodge (the private partner of the district). Things only get weirder when a strange man stumbles into Duck's life and tells him everything he doesn't want to hear. With a new unknown monster on the horizon, will Duck be able to make it through the winter unscathed?
Relationships: Barclay/Edmund "Ned" Chicane, Indrid Cold/Duck Newton, Juno Divine/Sarah Drake
Comments: 36
Kudos: 125





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> howdy yall ive decided that, instead of revamping an old boring work im gonna write some new garbage! this story takes place in an au i've developed where monster hunting is a classified part of duck's day job (which also gives me an excuse to bring juno into the podcast more because i love her). aubrey's and ned's introduction to the story is still roughly the same but the story will cover anything i need to clarify. hope yall like it!

Things start, as many things in Duck’s life do, with an accident.

See, Duck had been frantically digging through his groceries, because he was pretty sure he forgot salt, so he wasn’t looking where he was going. Apparently, the man he ran into wasn’t paying attention either, and now both of their groceries were on the ground.

“Don’t be,” the man says. Duck looks up at him, and the man frowns in self-directed confusion. “I mean, I’m sorry.”

Duck is momentarily stunned by the figure in front of him. A tall, wiry man with big, round red glasses, long white hair with black roots, no less than four jackets, and a black scarf with red eyes printed on it. Duck isn’t sure if he should be concerned or vaguely attracted to the man, but either way he’s staring.

“Nah, you’re good, I’m sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going.” Duck shakes himself out of it by stooping down and starting to pick stuff up. He looks down at the carnage: a few of his own cans of soup and… a lot of cartons of eggnog? Whatever. Duck is more concerned with not spilling the rest of the bags into the snow in the gutter.

“They’re for a party,” the man says, pushing his glasses up his nose. Then, as if he realizes what Duck is doing, he crouches down to help.

“You got a big family?” Duck asks conversationally. He hopes that he hasn’t accidentally unlocked this man’s backstory because he’s already going to be late meeting Juno.

The man seems to hesitate as he shoves several cartons into the box he was holding. “Yeah.”

Duck stands up. “Alright, well, have fun at your party, I’m sorry for running into you.”

“Don’t be,” the man says, “Have fun with your friend.”

Duck is surprised. Before he can say how he didn’t say anything about Juno, the man is gone. There’s no sign of him or his glasses or cool scarf anywhere along the relatively empty Kepler street. Duck sighs. With a cold grimace, Duck hoists his grocery bags up and starts walking again. This time, he’s looking exactly where he’s going.

~~❄~~

“What’s up loser,” Juno says as Duck walks into the cafe, fifteen minutes late.

“Somehow that doesn’t sting like it did when we were fifteen,” Duck replies, shrugging off his coat.

“Y’think it’s ‘cause we’re in our forties now, or because you’re just so full of holiday cheer?” Juno teases.

“No amount of peer pressure is gonna make me try that stupid eggnog latte,” Duck cuts back.

“Strong words from a man who rolled his ankle doing skateboarding tricks on some black ice because someone said it would look cool.”

“That someone was you and it did look cool until I busted my ass.”

Juno slides him a coffee, conceding, “It did look cool.”

Duck takes a long, warming drink from the coffee. “You wanna know why I was late?”

“Why was that?”

“I was getting some groceries and as I was walking, I ran into this guy. Like, full-on collision. And it— well okay, I don’t wanna say he was weird, but the encounter was real weird—”

“You think he’s cute,” Juno cuts in. Duck gives her a look. “Continue.”

“So as I’m like, processing what just happened, he says ‘don’t be’ and then looks surprised that he said it? And then he apologizes and I apologize and I start picking up the stuff that fell and he just bought a bunch of eggnog?” Duck explains. Juno nods. “He says it was for a party, which, like, whatever, fine. But then as I’m leaving I’m like ‘have fun at your party’ and he’s like ‘have fun with your friend’ and like, I didn’t tell him about meeting you. Like at all.”

“Weird,” says Juno, “You think he’s some kinda mind reader?”

“Wouldn’t be the weirdest thing I’ve seen the past couple months,” Duck says.

“Describe this guy, I wanna see if I know him,” Juno says.

“Tall, long white hair, big red glasses, scruffy goatee-type beard, wearing a bunch of jackets and this cool scarf that was black with red eyes on it,” Duck lists.

“Oh shit, I think I signed that guy into the RV campground last week,” Juno says, “He was real skinny, right?”

“Yeah, I think so, like I said he was wearing a ton of jackets,” Duck says, drinking more coffee.

“He was kinda weird, but like eccentric-weird, not creepy,” Juno says. She takes a drink. “But I don’t think he mentioned being in town for family or anything?”

Duck sighs. “Y’think he’s our monster?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time it took a humanoid form,” Juno shrugs.

“Yeah, but never like this. I mean he was a whole dude, he talked pretty normal, and he seemed pretty non-threatening,” Duck says.

“Well Duck, according to you he was buying a bunch of eggnog and could read your mind,” Juno points out.

“Exactly, if the monster was going for some kinda subterfuge he’d be like, unsettlingly normal. I think he’s just a weird guy. We don’t hunt Ned down for wearing goth scarves. Plus, you said he checked in at the RV park last week, so how would he get past the radius?” Duck counters.

“I’m just saying, the full moon is coming up, we gotta keep an eye out,” Juno warns.

“I am, I just don’t think it’s this guy,” Duck says, “It’s not like we can, I dunno, detain him anyway.”

“Yeah, I know.” Juno takes another drink. “It’s just that the last couple monsters have been real fuckin’ weird, and very hard to manage, and now we got two more people to worry about, so I don’t wanna cast anything out until we know for sure what we’re dealing with.”

“You’re right,” Duck sighs.

“I usually am,” Juno nods.

“If I see him again I’ll keep an eye on him. In the meantime, you promised news.” Duck drinks his coffee and waits for Juno to spill.

Juno sets her cup down. “Right, yeah, okay, so, you remember Sarah Drake?”

“From high school? Mathlete tennis star Sarah?” Duck replies.

“Yeah, her. She works up at the telescope now, she’s like a supergenius, but I ran into her at Leo’s store the other day, and apparently she’s moving back to town?” 

“Really?”

“I know. I mean, on the one hand, it’s nice to see her again, but now ain’t exactly a great time,” Juno says.

“Right,” Duck says, hiding a smirk behind his coffee cup. “You still in love with her?”

“Don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about,” Juno says, hiding behind her own coffee cup in a way that suggested she knew exactly what he was talking about.

“Alright,” Duck says.

“Anyways.” Juno sets her cup on the table pointedly. “Sarah’s back, so I was thinking of talking her into a housewarming party.”

“Do you know where she’s living?” Duck asks.

“She said she’s moving into an apartment next week,” Juno says.

“Where?”

“Somewhere on Fourth street.”

“Like by the tramway?” 

“Where else is fourth street?”

“That’s where my apartment building is,” Duck points out.

“I knew that,” Juno says.

“Do you seriously not know where I live? You’ve been to my house!” Duck incredulates.

“I’m not looking at street signs, it’s muscle memory!” Juno replies.

“I can’t believe you don’t know where I live,” Duck shakes his head.

“Whatever. Sarah is moving into your apartment building next week.” Juno looks at her watch. “Shit, I gotta go pick up Percy from practice. Are you on night shift tonight?”

“Yeah, and I’m off tomorrow,” Duck says.

“Lucky,” Juno says. She stands up and grabs her purse. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

“See ya,” Duck waves.

~~❄~~

The next couple days pass uneventfully. The usual winter break snow rush keeps him busy, but it’s nothing he hasn’t done before. He and Juno take turns telling people that they unfortunately are not in control of the weather and picking up things that definitely aren’t sleds out of the sledding areas. They’re understaffed, but this winter isn’t very busy. Between the “strange fire” and the catastrophe at H2Whoa: That Was Fun, Duck isn’t surprised.

On a slightly slower afternoon, near the time that his shift ends, Duck sees the man from the grocery store. He stumbles in, clutching his big red glasses, looking like he physically blew in. Judging from the storm stirring up outside, he probably did.

“Hey, welcome to the Monongahela Ranger Station, how’re you enjoying your visit?” Duck says reflexively.

The man looks over at Duck. “Hi, I was actually hoping to talk to you?”

Duck’s mind flickers back to his conversation with Juno. “What’s up?”

“It’s not forest-related,” the man says hesitantly.

“Is it safe for work?” Duck asks worriedly.

“Oh— yeah no, it’s— I had some questions about Kepler? I— this is my first time here and it seems like a very nice town, and when I talked to the grocer, Leo, he said you would be a good person to talk to. I— to be honest, I didn’t realize it was you that I bumped into until now,” Indrid says, “I’m Indrid, by the way.”

“Hey Indrid, I’m Duck,” Duck replies.

“It’s nice to meet you for the first time, because we certainly haven’t run into each other before,” Indrid says.

Duck smiles. “Totally. What’d you wanna know about Kepler?”

“Okay, um, first off, would you happen to know where the best place to get snow gear is? I was hoping to get chains for my tires, and maybe a new jacket,” Indrid asks.

Duck tries to picture a map of Kepler in his head that would make sense to a tourist. “Chains’d be probably at Whistle’s Auto? If you go down Highland and keep following the road, you’ll see the used car lot, it’s on the left side of the building. And then, uh, if you want a big puffy jacket, you probably gotta go to the JC Penney’s on 3rd, but the thrift shop might also have some, which you’ll get to if you take the first right off Highland and follow that road towards City Hall.”

“Alright, cool, and then, um, do you know if any places will be open on Christmas?” Indrid asks.

“Yeah, there’s a couple spots,” Duck says. He realizes that he has an opportunity here. He doesn’t know what Indrid is going to use this information for. Probably he’ll just buy snow chains and a coat and get food on Christmas day, but the full moon is close and Duck is trying to be vigilant. “If, uh, if you wanted, I get off at five, I know I’m not great at giving directions, I could maybe show you around? Just, uh, if you want to.”

Indrid tilts his head. “That sounds good. I’m not very good at following directions anyway.”

“Cool,” Duck nods, “Did you have any other questions, or…”

“Has anything weird ever happened here?” Indrid asks.

Oh. Indrid was that kind of tourist. Duck is a little disappointed, but he isn’t surprised. After all, Indrid is wearing a different, even more goth scarf edged with black lace spiderwebs.

“What kinda weird?” Duck stalls. He needs time to come up with a good story that will lead Indrid away from the actual weird stuff.

“Well, you work in the middle of the woods in a Radio Quiet Zone. Seems like the perfect place for monster sightings, supernatural events, alien abductions, et cetera,” Indrid says.

“I mean…” Duck finally gets an idea. “Have you been out to East Fork Trail? Y’know the huge cottonwoods down there?” 

“I’ve seen them,” Indrid says.

“This— I mean this is gonna sound dumb, ‘cause it’s too weird to be real and too boring to be made up,” Duck says. This is probably the best lie he’s ever told. Maybe Ned is finally getting through to him.

“No, go ahead, I want to hear,” Indrid says.

“So one year, we were having a bad snow season, uh, like, it wasn’t snowing very much, but if you— when I went down to, y’know, check out the area, make sure things are alright down there, it looked like it was snowing. It was snowing.” Duck pauses, excited to deliver the twist. “But it— it wasn’t snow. It was the cotton from the trees. So I was kinda weirded out, because it was totally out of season, right? And there was _way_ more cotton than the trees would’ve produced. And that whole winter, we… we kept having accidents happen down there. People would fall out of trees, drown in the river, get chased down by a bear. It got to the point where we had to shut down the trail.”

“Do you think it was connected?”

“I mean, I don’t have a whole lotta empirical evidence, but I don’t think it was a coincidence,” Duck says noncommittally.

“It is strange,” Indrid says, “Is that all?”

“I mean, that’s all I’ve seen with my own eyes. I’m sure you could get better stories from the Cryptonomica, or maybe the antiques store, or hell, drive over to Snowshoe and talk to the waiter at the Wolf Ember Grill, he says he got abducted by aliens,” Duck says.

“I’ll follow those up,” Indrid says. He sounds interested in that, but he’s still standing in front of Duck at the counter. 

“‘S there something else I can help you with?” Duck asks.

“That’s it, I think, but I was hoping I could maybe look around?” Indrid says, gesturing to the displays and maps by the far wall.

“Yeah, for sure! If you have any more questions, let me know,” Duck says.

“Thank you,” Indrid says.

Duck watches him read about various types of pine cones for a minute. They really should have revamped that exhibit by now; the pine cones are dusty and old and some of them are broken and decayed. Duck hopes Indrid won’t judge him for the dustiness of his workplace, and then wonders why that’s a hope that he has. Well, if Duck is being honest, Indrid seems pretty nice, and he’s good-looking. Maybe if their trip around town goes well tonight, Duck could offer to buy him dinner.

A crack of thunder tumbles across the sky. Duck looks up at the windows, concerned. The sky, already dark from the early sunset, is the thick blue-grey of storm clouds. The wind is completely unbridled now, shaking snow off of tree branches as soon as it lands.

“That’s not very promising,” Indrid remarks. Duck isn’t sure if he was supposed to hear that.

“Did you walk here?” Duck asks.

“Yeah.”

“You might wanna stay here ‘til this blows over.”

“Yeah.” Indrid is leaning on the windowsill, peering out at the monochrome landscape. His glasses are bright red in the stark lighting.

Duck stops staring. “So, uh, how long are you in town for?”

Indrid looks over at Duck. “About a month, weather permitting.”

“For work or vacation?”

“Both?”

“You don’t sound sure.”

Indrid steps away from the window. “I’m technically self-employed, which is a nice way of saying I don’t have a real job, so my hours are mostly made up.”

“What do you do?” Duck asks, leaning forward on the counter. 

“I do… freelance meteorology,” Indrid says, “Well— contracted. I don’t wander the countryside asking if people need their weather predicted.”

Duck laughs. “Sounds like a fun gig. You working up at the telescope?”

“For the most part,” Indrid says. He’s leaning on the other side of the counter.

“How do you get into that kind of industry?”

“Uh, chance, mostly,” Indrid smiles self consciously, “There isn’t exactly a lot of demand for loose meterologists.”

“I’d imagine.” Duck is starting to doubt this guy. He’s trying to keep Juno’s warning in mind, and ‘freelance meteorologist’ is throwing up a lot of red flags. 

“What about you? How is working here?” Indrid asks.

“Oh, uh, I mean, it’s alright. I get to spend a lot of time out in the forest, which is nice, I feel pretty lucky to get to do that. And I don’t know if you’ve talked to her, Ranger Divine, Juno, she’s like, my best friend, so I like getting to work with her,” Duck says.

“I think I’ve met her, she’s the one who checked me into the campsite,” Indrid says, “That must be fun.”

“Yeah, I mean, there’s not as much shenanigans as when we were in our 20s, but it beats having some coworker I barely know,” Duck says.

“Certainly,” Indrid agrees.

The wind howls outside. Duck looks away from Indrid’s deft fingers to see the windows rattle and the trees thrash. It’s getting really dark. Duck looks at the time: 4:39. Twenty minutes for the storm to settle down before he can try and brave the roads. 

In the meantime, Indrid has migrated to the brochure stand. He’s flipping through a pamphlet for a local ski resort. Duck tries to focus on whatever work he was doing before Indrid came in. Right. Trees that would need to be cut down in the spring. Duck could do trees. Trees are arguably the one thing he can do. Trees. Fall hazards. Fire hazards. This isn’t difficult.

“It’s five o’clock,” Indrid says.

“Thank god.” Duck grabs his report from behind the counter and walks to the backroom door. “I’ll be right back, I just gotta clock out and grab my stuff.”

Indrid nods. Duck goes into the back office, grabs his coat and bag, and clocks out. The back door is already locked, and there’s no night shift, so Duck just has to lock the front door once they leave. He returns to the front and meets Indrid by the door.

The storm seems to have lulled a bit, or at least the wind has died down. Duck opens the door, resisting the chill that pushes in, and looks out at the unforgiving sheets of snow sealing off the earth underneath. Some of it has already solidified into ice.

“I can’t drive in that,” Duck realizes. He closes the door most of the way. “If you feel like walking you could probably run now, or else you’re stuck here until the snow crew comes in the morning.”

“What about you?” Indrid asks.

“I’ve spent the night in the station before, I’ll be fine,” Duck says, “We got a cot in the back for stuff like this.”

Indrid takes Duck’s place at the door and looks outside. Duck sees him recoil as the bitter wind slices across the threshold.

“Y’know, I may be able to get the truck running,” Duck says, “There’s snow tires on it for a rea—”

“No.”

“O— okay,” Duck says, dropping the hand that was reaching for his keys.

“I— I mean, it’s too dangerous. The roads are already icy, and with the snow it’s harder to tell—”

“Yeah, yeah, definitely.” Duck just wants to avoid whatever it is that made Indrid sound scared. Indrid is a meteorologist, he probably understands ice. “I mean, the crew has to come in before we open tomorrow morning anyway, or if the storm stops I can try and shovel it. So if, uh, if you just wanted to wait out the storm here, you, I mean, you could take the cot.”

“It’s alright, I can—” Indrid winces as he attempts to go out the door again. He sighs. “That might be a good idea.”

“Lemme get that set up for you,” Duck says. 

He goes into the back room and opens the storage closet. There’s a lot of junk in there, but he manages to pull the fold-up camping cot out. It unfolds creakily and Duck sets it against the wall. There’s a few emergency blankets, as well as some nicer fleece ones that he and Juno stashed there, so Duck gets those out too. It’s a mediocre setup, but it’ll have to do.

Indrid steps into the doorway. “Am I allowed back here?”

“If you aren’t, it ain’t like the cops could make it here,” Duck says wryly.

Indrid grins. “Fair enough.”

“You want anything to eat? We have, let’s see—” Duck rifles through the kitchenette. “Trail mix, granola bars, more trail mix, god we got a lotta trail mix in here, what the fuck, okay here’s some dried fruit—”

“I’ll eat that,” Indrid says, “Please.”

“Cool.” Duck grabs the package and emerges from the depths of the cabinets under the counter.

Indrid takes it with a “thank you.”

They sit in silence for a little bit. There aren’t any lights on in the back room, and if Duck isn’t mistaken, he’s pretty sure the ones out front are getting dimmer. The generator isn’t a fan of snow, so Duck imagines they’re not going to have much light tonight. He just hopes the meager heating system stays on.

Heating or not, Indrid is shivering. He’s sitting on the edge of the cot, and he’s holding up a dried apple slice like he might eat it, but his face is still.

“Do you need another blanket?” Duck offers.

“Hm? Oh, no, thank you,” Indrid says, snapping from his trance. He gathers the blankets and pulls them around his shoulders like a cape.

More silence stuffs the room like steel wool, made even rougher by the whine of the generator. Duck wishes they had any kind of distraction. He’s not sure how long he should stand there, it’s probably already been too long, but now he’s there.

“I’m gonna try and get some paperwork done while I’m here, lemme know if you need anything,” Duck says finally.

“Actually, um, if you have just some scratch paper and something to write with?” Indrid requests.

“Yeah, for sure.” Duck digs around in his desk for something to write with. He pulls out a pen and goes over to the printer to take some extra paper. “Here, and you can use Juno’s desk if you need.”

“I’m sure she’ll approve of that,” Indrid says, standing up. His blanket cape trails dramatically off the cot, ending at his knees.

“I mean, you can’t be worse than her thirteen-year-old daughter, who drops crumbs like it’s nobody’s business,” Duck says.

“You don’t know that,” Indrid smirks.

“Well, I’m believing it, and turning a blind eye,” Duck says.

“Seems like a big risk to take with a stranger.”

“There’s no such thing as strangers when you’re trapped in a snowstorm together.”

“That’s true,” Indrid laughs.

Now the quiet is soft, more like fiberglass. Duck shuffles papers around on his desk pointlessly. He doesn’t really feel like doing the visitor count report right now. He also doesn’t want to review the new snow program outline. Or the fire hazard report. Or the manual avalanche schedule. It’s not like he’s getting paid for this anyway.

“Do you want hot chocolate?” Duck asks, pushing his rolling chair back.

“Sure,” Indrid replies, looking up from the other desk.

“We only have it with water,” Duck warns.

“It’s warmer than nothing,” Indrid says.

“That’s true,” Duck chuckles.

He gets to work, mixing pre-packaged powder into two mugs of water and putting them in the microwave. It’s a disgusting excuse for hot chocolate, but Indrid is right. At this point, it’s just a matter of staying sane. The microwave beeps, and Duck stirs the cocoas with a plastic spoon. He places one of the mugs in front of Indrid.

“Thank you,” Indrid says.

“No problem,” Duck nods. He takes a drink from his own mug, and it’s unpleasant, but at least it’s warm.

“Oh, this is hot, how are you not burning yourself right now?” Indrid says, picking up his own mug just fine.

Duck raises his eyebrows, trying desperately to come up with a lie. “It must’ve heated up unevenly.”

“I guess so,” Indrid says, clearly not convinced. 

Duck isn’t sure why he would be suspicious, or what exactly Indrid would do with the knowledge that Duck is a mundane superhero. He just knows that he’s gone this long without his secret getting out. At this point it would be like giving up. Duck may be lazy and a coward but he’ll be damned if he’s not perseverant.

That perseverance is pretty fruitless, because now Duck is just sitting at his desk drinking depressing hot chocolate. He can hear Indrid scribbling away, and he wonders what Indrid is doing.

“It’s for a collage,” Indrid speaks up, and the scribbling stops.

Duck frowns. He’s still facing away from Indrid, and he’s pretty sure he didn’t say anything. He doesn’t know what he’s supposed to say. “What?”

There’s the sound of a pen dropping onto the laminate plastic desk. “I’m drawing, it’s for a collage.”

“I— okay, I didn’t wanna say anything, but can you read minds or something?” Duck asks.

“No,” Indrid says. Duck feels inclined to believe him, but he doesn’t know how else to explain it. “I can see the future.”

“All of it?” Duck replies, looking over at him.

“Not all of it, usually not very far even, but I can usually tell the kinds of things people will ask me,” Indrid explains.

“Must be nice,” Duck remarks. He backtracks, “Well, not nice, ‘cause things aren’t always nice, but to be able to anticipate specific things like that.”

“It’s better than only seeing one tragedy at a time, an unknown amount of time before its occurrence,” Indrid agrees. 

Duck feels weirdly targeted, but he knows there’s no future in which he would reveal his chosen abilities to this strange man he met a couple days ago. He looks back at his desk. “Yeah, for sure.”

“You seem very accepting of the fact that I can see the future,” Indrid says. He rolls his chair away from Juno’s desk, closer to Duck.

“Well, I don’t really have another explanation, and it’s not like I stand to lose anything by believing you,” Duck says.

“I like the way you think,” Indrid says, a hint of a smile crossing his expression. His glasses glitter in the dim light. “This place isn’t just a ranger station, is it?”

Duck knows it’s too late. He’s backed himself into a corner. In fact, he walked into the corner willingly and waited to be trapped there. Juno even warned him! And now he’s going to be killed by this month’s monster. Duck curses his southern hospitality and weakness for taller men. Not only is he in danger, but now Juno and everyone at Amnesty Lodge is in danger too. 

“What? What else would it be?” Duck tries.

“Well, one of the ceiling tiles is askew, there’s a latch for a hidden safe on this desk, and the deadbolt on the back door there is far more sturdy and expensive than any municipal forestry building would need,” Indrid lists.

“What, do you go around rating deadbolts for a living?” Duck avoids the question.

“It’s a hobby of mine,” Indrid says dryly. His smile is only getting wider.

“Did you get stuck here on purpose?” Duck realizes.

“Of course I did, I told you, I can see the future,” Indrid grins.

Duck is kind of freaking out. He knows Beacon is only one drawer away, but Duck doesn’t want to use it unless he absolutely has to. “What do you want?”

Indrid’s smile drops, and he looks more concerned now. “Well, at first I wanted to test the integrity of your monster hunting operation, but I think I’ve compromised the results.”

“What are you talking about? There ain’t— we don’t got monsters, not here,” Duck refutes. He’s shit at lying and he knows it, but this goes beyond his own safety.

“You’re right, you don’t! Because you’re doing such a good job keeping them at bay. Up until the last, what, two times, at least? A good track record, considering the size of your operation,” Indrid says. He’s leaning back in his chair like this is a casual conversation about the weather, not Duck’s entire livelihood. It’s infuriating, and Duck can’t stop staring at him.

Duck stammers, “What the fuck are you talking about?”

Indrid sits up. “Don’t worry, I’m not here to expose you. I know you’ve been struggling, even after taking on more staff, and personally I would prefer if any threats to people’s safety were stopped swiftly and without casualty, so I came to help.”

“Who are you? Like for real? You gotta be more than a ‘freelance meteorologist’ or whatever the fuck,” Duck demands.

“Indrid Cold is my real name, as fake as it sounds. I’m… a supernatural individual, I think ‘clairvoyant’ works, I’m, let’s see, 408 solar-rotation years old, which translates to about 51 human years, and I’m finally taking up the reigns of fate again,” Indrid lists. He leans back in the chair again. “Who are _you_ really?”

“I’ve got nothing to hide,” Duck lies. He’s on a roll tonight.

“Tell me about yourself, then,” Indrid says.

“Well,” Duck sighs, “My name is Duck Newton, same as the name tag, so I got no right to get on your case about fake names. I’m 43 years old, human years, and I’m a botanist for the Forest Service.”

“And?”

“And… I have a magic sword that I use to fight off monsters,” Duck caves.

Indrid smiles. “An actual sword?”

“Well they wouldn’t give me a gun,” Duck laughs, “I mean, probably I could’ve gotten a gun, but to be honest guns kinda wig me out so I have a sword instead.”

“From the government?” Indrid raises his eyebrows.

“No, it was a… special order,” Duck says.

“Duck, I have been to nearly every town in this country, and I have never once seen a place that makes custom _magical_ swords, or met anyone that would enchant a real sword,” Indrid says.

“The— the government got the metal— like the enchanted metal and then someone made it, uh, into a sword,” Duck says. He’s flailing.

“If you say so,” Indrid lets up. 

Duck is surprised, but he’s glad he’s not being grilled anymore. “Did you meet anyone who could enchant a fake sword?”

“Anyone can enchant a fake sword,” Indrid says dismissively.

“Can you?” Duck raises an eyebrow.

“Of course I can,” Indrid says.

“What about a real sword?” Duck asks.

“If you brought me a sword I could show you how it would be enchanted,” Indrid says vaguely.

“I’m not falling for that,” Duck says.

Indrid grins. “I don’t need you to.”

He rolls back over to the desk and picks up one of the things he was drawing. It’s a sketch (a really good one, at that) of Duck holding out a plain longsword, with Indrid holding some kind of light over the blade.

“So I’m guessing you know everything I could tell you already?” Duck says.

“Anything about your workplace,” Indrid nods.

“Right.”

It’s quiet. It’s also dark, so the quiet is louder. Duck has stopped looking at Indrid, choosing instead to study the silhouette of his desk. Indrid doesn’t say anything, but it’s still quiet, so he hasn’t rolled back to his own workspace yet. It’s quiet. It’s dark. There’s a loud clunk somewhere outside. Now it’s starting to get cold.

“God damnit,” Duck mutters.

“That was the generator, wasn’t it?”

“Yep.”

More quiet, this time without the grinding of the generator. It’s almost haunting. If Duck were alone, he would take his chances on driving home.

“Still a bad idea,” Indrid warns.

“Can you cut it out?” Duck snaps, “I know it’s a bad idea to drive in this.”

“I don’t want you to die,” Indrid says.

“I also don’t want to die, and I’d like to keep you alive too, but it’s not gonna be much easier if we’re trapped in here all night,” Duck replies.

“You can’t leave me in here alone,” Indrid says, “It would cost you your job, at the very least.”

“And you’re not gonna come with me,” Duck says.

“Right, I’m not getting into a car that I know is going to skid off the road and smash into a tree,” Indrid says. 

He picks up another drawing and shoves it towards Duck. This time, it’s a crumpled up truck with the bough of a tree stabbed through the windshield.

Duck sets his jaw. “This is gonna happen no matter what?”

“Maybe not that specifically, but certainly some variation. I’d rather not risk it,” Indrid says.

“So you really were freaked out earlier, you weren’t just faking it to get me alone,” Duck says. He’s irritated, but he wants to believe Indrid.

“If I just wanted to get you alone I would have gone about things very differently,” Indrid assures.

Duck isn’t even going to begin unpacking that. “Whatever. We’ll stay here, you can take the cot like I said, I’ll go out in the front and wait—”

“You’re going to freeze.”

“Can I finish a single thought?”

“Apparently not without dooming yourself to a new brand of death.”

Duck looks directly into Indrid’s opaque red glasses, which are bright even in the darkness. Indrid glares right back. Duck knows he’s not going to win a staring contest against someone wearing sunglasses. 

Duck still tries, but before long his eyes start to water. “Fine. What do you suggest, Mr. Know-it-all?” 

“Is that a Rocky and Bullwinkle or a Young the Giant pull?”

“Kelly Clarkson. You didn’t answer the question,” Duck says. He’s reaching the end of his patience.

“Ooh, that’s the kind of man that fights monsters,” Indrid simpers.

Duck’s fingers close around the pencil he just realized he’d been fiddling with. “Listen, Indrid, you came to my job and got yourself stuck with me so you could figure out the one secret I’ve been working so hard to keep for twenty goddamn years. And now we’re fuckin’ trapped here with no electricity, and it’s only getting colder. So what the fuck do we do now, Mr. Crystal Ball?”

Indrid is silent. 

Duck huffs. He can see his breath in front of him. “Whatever. Have fun with your drawings.”

He turns back to his desk. The pencil that Duck was holding is now splintered. Duck drops it and covers his face with his hands. It’s no substitute for being alone, but at least he has some semblance of deniability.

What is Duck going tell his supervisors? What _can_ he tell them? Indrid clearly has supernatural abilities, probably more than he’s admitted to. If Duck lets him go unmonitored and he ends up causing problems, it’s going to come down on Duck, which means reprimanding paperwork at the very least. Let alone if anyone actually gets hurt. Duck refuses to let himself follow that possibility. Indrid hasn’t actually done anything threatening, he just knows way too much and wants to get involved.

That’s the thing too. If Indrid sticks to his word and helps with the next monster fight, and isn’t the monster himself (dear god Duck hopes that’s the case), then there will have to be some kind of liability paperwork. Duck prefers the paperwork to the fight itself, but he can only take so much. Not to mention, Indrid may not even help now! Duck went ahead and yelled at him, so maybe Indrid will just leave. Maybe he’s giving Duck the silent treatment because that’s the closest thing to walking away without him having to leave the building. 

Suddenly, a warm weight drapes itself around Duck’s shoulders. Duck uncovers his face, only to see Indrid’s hands pulling away.

“I’m sorry,” Indrid says.

Duck looks back, pulling the blanket tighter. “Nah, don’t be, I’m… I’m sorry, I shouldn’t’ve yelled at you.”

“It’s okay, I was provoking you,” Indrid admits, “I should have known you were an Aries.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Duck asks, unable to muster up any bite behind it.

“Don’t worry about it.” Indrid layers another blanket over Duck’s shoulders. Duck is blindsided by the intimacy of it. “I’m just being unnecessarily cruel to a future coworker.”

“You can keep the blankets,” Duck says.

“You need them too.” Indrid gives the blankets a final pat, an action that has no right to be as reassuring as it is. “I’m going to sleep for a little bit, wake me up when it gets actually late so you can sleep.”

“Are you sure?” Duck asks.

“I’m fairly nocturnal anyway, one night of weird sleep is nothing new,” Indrid assures him.

“Alright, well, you’re still a guest, in my place of employment at that, so your comfort is the priority here,” Duck says.

“That’s kind of you, but I promise I’ll be fine,” Indrid says. He starts arranging blankets on the cot.

“Lemme know if you need anything,” Duck insists.

“I will,” Indrid says. He shuffles into place on the cot.

Duck sighs. This night is going to be ridiculously long.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Duck spends a hellishly long night in the ranger station, and then even worse, he has to be a functioning adult with a party to attend. Not to mention the abomination, who should be showing up any minute now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a doozy to write, very fun but over 8k words long! it features almost all my favorite characters, including Persephone "Percy" Divine, Juno's 13yo daughter who started out as my "stating the obvious" plot device and developed into, objectively, the best character in all of amnesty

Duck doesn’t get very much work done that night.

It’s not just the fact that he’s not getting paid for these hours, or the cold, or the fact that there’s a strange man sleeping not ten feet from him. Those things have all faded from Duck’s mind, and he’s just replaying his conversation with Indrid over and over again. Indrid may be able to see the future, but he didn’t actually know Duck. At least, Duck didn’t know him. 

That was the weird thing, though. It was as if Indrid’s foresight let him skip through Duck’s awkward stage of acquaintanceship and straight to the “constant provocative presence” stage. Up until recently, that spot had been taken by Ned, but Indrid wasn’t like Ned either. For one, he pulls off scarves a lot better, in Duck’s opinion at least. It’s more of an eclectic journalist look than a librarian with a dark secret. Plus Indrid doesn’t talk like he got kicked out of theater school for breaking into the theater after hours— 

“Duck Newton, certainly you should be at home by now?”

Duck sighs. “Hey Minerva.”

“It looks as though you will not be able to train today,” Minerva realizes. She glides around to stand next to Duck’s desk.

“Yeah, no, sorry. I— look, now is—”

“Who is that?” Minerva frowns, looking at Indrid.

“He’s… a friend. Listen, now ain’t a great time, I can’t— I don’t wanna wake him up, can we hold off ‘til tomorrow?” Duck replies.

“Tell me more about this friend,” Minerva says. She sounds skeptical, which feels kind of mean.

“Am I not allowed to have friends? We met at the grocery store and I was supposed to show him around Kepler today but instead we got snowed into the damn ranger station,” Duck says.

Minerva is silent for a moment, staring down at Indrid’s cocooned form. “...My apologies, I… you know this person is powerful, yes?”

“I know he’s got magic powers,” Duck says, “That doesn’t hit the bar of ‘weird’ for me anymore, though.”

“No, it should not, but… I cannot explain the uneasiness he inspires. Try to stay on your toes,” Minerva says.

“Alright, Minnie,” Duck says.

“Goodbye, Duck Newton, we will speak again tomorrow,” Minerva says.

“Bye,” Duck waves.

Minerva flickers out of Duck’s view with the accompanying twinge in his brain. Duck pulls his blankets tighter around his shoulders. He feels a little bad for dismissing her like he did, but he genuinely cannot understand what is wrong with Indrid. Indrid is still asleep, or at least pretending very well. Duck doesn’t want to stare at the guy, but he does look a little closer for just a second to see if there’s something he’s been missing.

Nope, Indrid just looks kind of skinny, and he wears red glasses. Duck isn’t going to watch him sleep, so he turns away. As he does that, he feels a sense of uncertainty leave him. Wait a second. Is that it? Is Indrid casting some kind of enchantment on Duck? Indrid did admit to being able to enchant things. 

Maybe Indrid is like a siren, dressed up like some kind of urban clairvoyant. And that’s why he can read minds too. Fuck. Duck has to get out of here. He lets go of the blankets and goes to stand up.

“What’s wrong?” Indrid asks, his voice dented with sleep.

“Huh? Oh, nothing,” Duck says, “Is something wrong?”

“Just had a vision of you running out the door and slipping on the ice and falling,” Indrid recounts, propping himself up on his elbows. “Do you need to leave?” 

“I— nah, I… I dunno. Guess I’m getting a little claustrophobic or something,” Duck says, averting his gaze.

“I’m not a siren, I can’t enchant you,” Indrid says blankly.

“I wasn’t thinking that,” Duck tries.

“I’m not a mind reader but you’re very easy to read, Duck. I already told you, if I only wanted to get you alone so I could get information, I would have done it very differently,” Indrid says.

“But you would’ve seduced me,” Duck says.

“In a hypothetical situation where that was my goal, and I was a siren whose powers lied in psychological enchantment, then yes, I might have tried to seduce you, I guess. But I didn’t, because that is very much not my goal. And I can only enchant objects, anyway,” Indrid says.

“Then why’d you go and get yourself trapped with me for a whole night?” Duck asks.

“Because I may see the future but that doesn’t mean I’m good at planning for it. I was caught up in coming up with cool one-liners to sound laid back and in-the-know, and I forgot that sometimes my own actions have consequences,” Indrid admits.

“That’s the kicker, ain’t it?” Duck smirks.

“It is,” Indrid says, smiling self consciously. “I feel like somehow, we got off on the wrong foot twice. We’ve run out of feet to— hm, nope, I’m going to try that one again.”

Duck laughs. He fully doubles over in his chair, losing his mind not only at Indrid’s word choice but just… the ridiculousness of the whole night. After a second, Indrid joins in. His laugh is nice, Duck notices.

Once Duck calms down, he says, “Yeah, I think, especially if we’re gonna work together, and have this fuckin’ impromptu sleepover, maybe I should stop accusing you of shit.”

“And I’ll stop interrupting you and acting all high and mighty,” Indrid promises.

“Alright,” Duck agrees. He looks around the dark ranger station and tries to ward off the chill with his blankets. “Are you sure we can’t leave?”

“We… could, technically, but you’ve seen the weather. And no offense, but you don’t seem very confident in your driving abilities, so maybe it would be best to at least wait it out,” Indrid says. He sits up on the cot and pulls his blanketed legs up to his chest.

Duck sits forward in his chair. “Are you actually a meteorologist, by any chance?”

“No,” Indrid laughs, “No, that was a— a lie that I honestly didn’t think would work.”

“I mean, I was skeptical, but I wasn’t gonna call you out on it,” Duck says.

“I’m very glad that you didn’t, because I had layers of lies planned out that I could dig into, and at this point I would have been making a fool of myself,” Indrid says.

“See now, at least it was kinda believable. You had the confidence, even if what you were saying was buckwild. I’ve never been able to lie for shit.”

“I can tell.”

“Can you now?”

“I can, because it’s become an ethical issue for me. I have to be careful what questions I ask you because if I’m not careful, I’ll see a future where you divulge information that I’m sure you don’t want to tell me,” Indrid says.

“How does that work?” Duck frowns.

“Don’t worry, you haven’t theoretically admitted anything yet. But like I showed you earlier, I see… multiple futures. There’s always multiple ways that situations can go, and I can see roughly… 120 of those possibilities at any given moment. Usually I’ll narrow it down to the things that are more likely to happen given their frequency, or scenarios that are especially important, so I’m only paying attention to about 40. Still, there’s a lot of variation, so sometimes I gain information naturally and sometimes I accidentally learn someone’s deep and terrible secret,” Indrid explains.

“You practice that monologue often?” Duck asks. Indrid tilts his head at him. “Nah, I’m sorry, it was good. Insightful, even.”

“Actually, you know what? I think I’m going home,” Indrid says, starting to push the blankets off.

“No wait, please don’t get hypothermia ‘cause I made a bad joke,” Duck says, reaching for him weakly.

“Insightful. I’m going to put that in my Twitter bio,” Indrid smirks, sitting back down, “Brings in much fewer concerned messages than ‘homeless psychic’.”

Duck laughs, “I don’t think you get to decide that you’re insightful.”

“You said it,” Indrid points out, “I’ll phrase it like a critic’s review.”

“ _ Insightful _ , said US Forest Service correspondent,” Duck suggests.

“Perfect,” Indrid laughs.

Duck is distracted from what he was about to say by a glint of light in Indrid’s mouth. “Have you always had fangs?”

Indrid’s eyebrows raise. “Oh— well, yes and no. I have them, but they’re not always visible.”

He starts fiddling with his glasses, and the most unnerving shift happens. Indrid’s features change from the slightly rough, sharp Indrid that Duck had just seen, to the relatively normal-looking man that Duck had first bumped into. 

Duck realizes that he’s staring. “That’s cool.”

“You don’t have to lie, I know it’s creepy,” Indrid replies.

“I think by now I’ve just accepted that you’re a little bit creepy,” Duck assures him, “In a cool way, I mean. Like a fun, goth take on existence.”

“…Yeah,” Indrid says.

“I dunno, I’m gonna stop talking now, ‘cause I’m not making things better,” Duck says. He turns back to his desk and stares distantly at the paperwork there.

The vow of silence lasts all of thirty seconds before Indrid asks, “Do you want to play a game?”

Duck looks up. “I would ask what game, but it ain’t like we got anything else to do, so I guess beggars can’t be choosers.”

“You don’t keep any emergency board games around here?” Indrid asks.

“Usually we don’t get snowed in with a guest,” Duck says.

“Fair enough,” Indrid says, “This isn’t so much a game as it is a way for us to get to know each other without revealing too much and without getting stuck on ‘what is your favorite movie’, and now I know your favorite movie is Princess Bride which isn’t a copout answer because it’s a very good film that still holds up.”

“Slow down, man, I barely heard the premise,” Duck laughs, trying to hide that Indrid really just predicted everything he was about to say.

“That’s because I haven’t said it yet. The idea here is, we go back and forth, asking each other a question. The trick is, that person can pass on the question, and then you have to answer the question,” Indrid explains.

“See, this seems specifically stacked in your favor,” Duck says, “You told me you don’t need me to talk to know my answer to stuff.”

“I don’t see everything,” Indrid counters, “I only see stuff that you would, in some timeline, be willing to tell me. And besides, if you pass I have to answer the question myself, so it’s not like I’m going to ask for your social security number and banking information.”

“Alright, I can handle that. You wanna go first?”

“Sure.” Indrid shuffles into a more comfortable position. “If you weren’t here right now, what would you be doing?”

Duck considers that. “I mean— wait okay no that’ll be my question. Uh, probably I’d be at home, not doing much. Maybe having some real hot chocolate.”

Indrid snickers. “Your turn.”

“Did you actually want a tour of Kepler or were you just finding a way to stay here?” Duck asks.

“It was a good reason for me to wait around, but I think if the snow ever clears I would still like that tour,” Indrid answers.

“It is nice right now, the town’s cleaned up and decorated for the holidays,” Duck says.

“Very picturesque. I wouldn’t be surprised if Hallmark showed up one day with cameras,” Indrid agrees. “Do you have family here?”

“…Pass,” Duck says.

“I don’t have family here, even though I implied that I did when we first met,” Indrid says, “I really spun myself into a web of lies, didn’t I?”

“Well, at least you’re coming clean now, before the continuity errors really show up,” Duck says. “My next question is, are you only staying to help with this monster?”

“That… remains to be seen. Depending on how this hunt goes, I may stick around, or I may disappear without a trace. I have no idea what the monster is yet,” Indrid replies. “Do you like hunting monsters?”

“No,” Duck snorts derisively.

“Really? Then why are you doing it?” Indrid asks.

“You gotta wait ‘til your next turn,” Duck points out.

“Fine, go.”

“If you’re a psychic why do you have fangs?”

“Pass.”

“Well I’m not a psychic and I don’t have fangs, so does that count?”

Indrid leans closer to look at Duck for a second. It’s a weirdly vulnerable moment, like Indrid is searching Duck for a thread to pull that will unwind his whole facade. Duck can’t even try to maintain eye contact.

Finally, Indrid asks, “Why are the roots of your hair pink? I think that’s an equal question.”

Duck raises his eyebrows. “I can’t pass?”

“No.”

“I… it’s just been like that for a long time. It’s not even my beard or eyebrows or anything. I usually dye it to match but I gotta do it again soon.” Luckily, that’s one of Duck’s most practiced lies.

“Interesting. Why do you hunt monsters if you don’t like it?” Indrid asks.

“I mean, it’s my job, I signed up for it. I don’t enjoy it, y’know, it’s dangerous and stressful and the paperwork is fuckin’ endless, but someone’s gotta do it,” Duck shrugs. “My turn, right? Okay, do you hunt monsters usually?”

“No, I’ve actually been avoiding monsters for the most part,” Indrid says.

“Smart.”

“I think most people would say cowardly, but thank you.”

“I’m not most people.”

“How very Hot Topic of you to say,” Indrid snickers.

“Oh I see, so you get to be cool and I don’t, I see how it is,” Duck says in mock-indignation. He knows it was a cliche thing to say, but it was so easy. “Nah, I just meant, like, the fewer people I gotta worry about running towards the monster, the better.”

“Ah, so I’m a liability,” Indrid says.

“I never said that,” Duck argues.

“No it’s okay, I am! I’m certainly not supposed to be here right now,” Indrid says.

“I guess not,” Duck says, “Not like there’s much we can do about that though. It’s your turn.”

“Why did you let me stay here after hours?” Indrid asks.

“I couldn’t kick you out in the cold,” Duck replies.

“Even if my being here threatens your employment?” Indrid prods.

“I mean, my job is to protect people, and last time I checked making someone walk through half a foot of snow is the opposite of that,” Duck says.

“And here I was thinking you were a punch-clock hero,” Indrid muses.

“Can I ask about your glasses?”

“Is that your question?”

“No, outside the game, is that off limits?”

“The game is about questions, Duck.”

This time, instead of being irritated, Duck isn’t afraid to meet Indrid on his level. “Well it’s also about answers.”

Indrid smiles. “What’s your question about my glasses?”

“Do you have to wear your glasses all the time?” Duck asks.

“That’s not what I expected you to ask, but the answer is yes. At least, it’s much better if I do,” Indrid says. “My question is why aren’t you asking more invasive questions?” 

“Hey, if something’s not my business, I’m not tryna make it my business,” Duck says.

“You fight monsters for a living, I think knowing about my powers is your business,” Indrid says.

“Do you want to give me an list?” Duck asks, “That’s my question, do you have an itemized list of your abilities that I can submit to my superiors so we can move on?”

“I do not,” Indrid says.

“Great,” Duck says.

They’re both quiet for a moment.

“Do you have any more questions?” Indrid asks.

“Uh, not off the top of my head?” Duck replies.

“Neither do I,” Indrid admits.

More quiet. It’s still cold as hell, but an unmovable warmth sits in Duck’s chest. The sentimental part of his brain says it’s friendship, but it could just as easily be heartburn from the absolute garbage hot chocolate. Duck might as well be drinking hot water, if all he wanted was to be warm. The blankets aren’t really enough to keep the freeze out, but it’s not like there are any more.

“Here.” Indrid holds an arm up, opening a spot under the majority of the blankets for Duck. “Hurry, the warm is getting out.”

“No, it’s okay, keep those for yourself,” Duck says.

“If we share the blankets then we’ll be warmer,” Indrid argues.

“I…” Duck doesn’t have a good reason to refuse.

Indrid waves his blanketed hand. “You don’t strike me as the type to shy away from physical contact. And I know I have fangs, but I promise I don’t bite.”

“Are you sure?”

“Am I sure I don’t bite? That seems like something I’d reme—”

“No, I mean are you sure you wanna share the blankets with me,” Duck interrupts.

“This is a selfish offer, because my body doesn’t naturally generate heat,” Indrid says flatly.

“Okay, fine.” 

Duck unfolds himself from his desk chair and sits next to Indrid on the cot. He takes his own blankets and hands a corner to Indrid, so they can sandwich themselves between the two sides. Once they settle, it’s definitely warmer, and a lot more awkward. They’re not quite touching, but they’re still very close. Duck is pointedly staring at the wall across from them so he doesn’t have to meet Indrid’s glowing gaze.

“I don’t know why movies try to frame this kind of situation as romantic,” Indrid remarks.

“It’s ‘cause they don’t get snow in Hollywood,” Duck says.

“That’s actually— have you thought about this before?”

“Yeah.”

Indrid laughs, looking down, and then pauses, and then looks up at Duck. “I— this is going to sound a lot more emotionally charged than I intended it, because I’m basically whispering in your ear, but I like you, Duck Newton. I look forward to hunting monsters with you,” Indrid says.

“Y’know, I… I feel the same,” Duck says, looking down at where his hands are under the blanket.

“That didn’t make this less awkward,” Indrid grimaces.

“Nah,” Duck snickers.

“I’m out of ideas.”

“Me too.”

They sit there silently in the darkness for a little longer. Duck notices, at such a short distance, that Indrid is perfectly still, not even breathing. Indrid must be a real powerful magic user, if he doesn’t even need to breathe. Thinking so much about breathing forces Duck to yawn. He’s getting tired, even though he knows it can’t be later than eight o’clock.

“Do you want to go to sleep for now?” Indrid asks.

Duck sighs. “I mean…”

“You should.”

“It’s not even that late.”

“Suit yourself.”

By now Duck is struggling to hold his eyes open. It’s already dark anyway, and it’s not like he’s doing anything. He doesn’t want to leave Indrid on his own, though. And this cot isn’t that great, it always gives him a crick in his neck, so he might as well stay up and save himself the…

~~🗲~~

… 

Duck is… somewhere. He can’t really feel anything, and everything around him is cast in a twilight haze. He reaches out in slow motion, and his hand leaves a trail of impressions in the darkness. This must be a vision.

There’s no air in this dreamless space, but Duck doesn’t need it. He pushes in a vaguely forward direction, and the sky changes to a dusky yellow. The sound of a rushing stream fades in, and Duck looks down to see… not water, but static, flowing through a riverbed of cables in varying sizes and colors. 

Duck follows the river for a little bit. He never knows what to do in his more minimalistic visions. Minerva just tells him to go with the flow, which usually isn’t helpful, but this time it has a literal application. The river goes on for some time, stretching into oblivion. If Duck is being honest, it’s real fucking creepy.

Then there’s a break in the static. A pitch black oval in the center of the stream. It flashes to white but doesn’t illuminate the surrounding area. A long tendril of blue-white electricity stretches out of it. It reaches slowly towards Duck, as if it were about to— 

~~🗲~~

“Hey, wake up.”

Duck’s eyes slice open, sending rays of frosty gold sunlight directly into his unprepared retinas.

“What the fuck,” Duck murmurs.

Indrid is standing over Duck, still wearing a few blankets like a bizarre wizard’s cloak. “Juno and the snow crew are going to be here in about fifteen minutes, so unless you want to look like Bigfoot halfway through transforming into a human, I’d suggest you go get cleaned up.”

“What time is it?” Duck asks.

“8:15. You went fully into hibernation mode,” Indrid says.

“Sorry,” Duck says, sitting up and rubbing his sore neck. “Hope I wasn’t snoring too bad.”

“No, but you do talk in your sleep?”

“I what now.”

“Something about a dumb river, the sky is ugly, at least your knees can’t hurt,” Indrid says.

“Huh.” Duck isn’t about to tell Indrid about his vision. Honestly, compared to Indrid’s practical seer abilities, Duck would feel kind of dumb trying to explain what he saw.

“Fourteen minutes now, clock is ticking, I really would not like to be accused of sleeping with you, you’d be surprised how many times I’ve been run out of town for that kind of thing, tick tock,” Indrid says, going over to the kitchenette.

“You’ve been run out of places for sleeping with people or being accused of it?” Duck asks.

“Accused of it. People seem to think I’m some kind of sexual demon a lot, actually. I don’t know why, my whole time on Earth has been spent as an asshole hermit, the epitome of the introverted nerd stereotype.” Indrid shoves a dried peach into his mouth unflatteringly, as if to prove his point. “But I’m also very stylish and eccentric so people will find reasons to get rid of me.”

“Well, Kepler ain’t like that,” Duck says.

“I can see the future, Duck.”

Duck wants so badly to say “so can I” but he knows it’s not worth it. Indrid doesn’t know everything about Duck’s hometown, that’s not either of their fault. If anything, it’s the snow’s fault, because Duck would have given a really good tour.

“Look, I’m sure your joints hurt and everything, but I’m serious about the time. I let you sleep as long as I could but I am going to be in a lot of trouble if people show up and you’re not around,” Indrid says.

“Alright, I’m moving,” Duck groans. He pushes himself up and starts towards the bathroom.

How is he going to explain Indrid’s presence? Duck considers his options as he goes through a modified morning routine. Juno is going to know if he’s lying before he opens his mouth. If he tells the truth, the higher-ups aren’t going to appreciate that he let some random stranger stay in the room where all the sensitive monster hunting information and tools are kept. If Duck tells the whole truth, Indrid is going to be carted off in an unmarked grey sedan, possibly never to be seen again.

Duck emerges from the bathroom, looking and feeling less rumpled. Indrid is no longer in the back office. The cot is folded up against the wall with the blankets folded on top of it, so Duck grabs his stuff and heads out to the front. Sure enough, Indrid is sitting on a wooden bench next to the door, folding up his drawings.

“Thanks for, uh, putting stuff away,” Duck says.

“It’s no problem,” Indrid replies.

Duck looks at the clock. Two minutes until Juno is supposed to get here. He figures he might as well try and go outside. The door tends to stick when it gets icy, so fixing that will save them some time. Duck is able to crack the door open with only a little superhuman power, and he immediately regrets not putting his jacket on first. He gives the door one more solid push before shutting it again.

“They’re here,” Indrid says.

Sure enough, as Duck zips up his jacket, the roar of multiple engines approaches the building. A minute later, and Juno is the first one in the door.

“Hey, what are you doing here?” Juno frowns. She looks behind Duck and adds, in a quieter voice, “What is he doing here?”

“We got snowed in,” Duck replies, “I went to leave when my shift was up and he was still here and the storm was still going.”

“And you didn’t send him on his way?”

“It was fuckin’ cold, and he walked here from the campgrounds, I wasn’t gonna make him walk a mile and a half through that!”

“Where’d he stay.”

“Juno, he’s not—”

“You know it’s not ‘cause I hate him, it’s about our literal livelihoods on the line.”

“I know! But I wasn’t gonna threaten his livelihood with freezin’ to death,” Duck mutters.

Juno looks out at the snow crew, who are taking shovels and ice picks out of the back of their truck. “We can talk about this later. We have to set up for Sarah’s party tonight, remember?”

“Yeah, I know.” Duck had completely forgotten that. “Look, I’ve been stuck here all night with—”

Juno puts a silencing hand on his shoulder. “Hi Indrid, hope the campground’s been treating you alright, ‘side from last night.”

Indrid stands up. “Oh, yes, it’s great, thank you. I should be going—”

“Yeah, Indrid, I can drop you off at the campground on the way into Kepler,” Duck says, sliding away from Juno’s passive aggressive grip.

“Okay, I know when I’m being told to leave,” Indrid smiles.

“Bye y’all,” Juno waves.

“See ya later,” Duck waves, ushering Indrid out of the building.

“She seems nice,” Indrid says.

“I promise she’s nicer when she’s not scared of losing her whole life,” Duck says, opening the driver side door of his truck.

“I wasn’t being sarcastic,” Indrid says, getting in the passenger seat. Duck doesn’t know how to respond. “I mean, I know she wasn’t at her most hospitable just now, but she seems very cool.”

Duck starts the engine. “She is cool. Cooler than me, at least.”

“Well, I could argue, but she’s the one with blue hair,” Indrid says.

“She is,” Duck nods.

They drive in silence for a little bit down the icy dirt road. Luckily it had been mostly cleared, but there is still some slushy snow and mud that Duck narrowly avoids. The RV park feels ten times as far as it usually does. The landscape is bright and monochrome. Duck doesn’t envy the amount of hopeful but inexperienced snow fanatics Juno will have to help today.

Finally, they reach Eastwood RV Park. There are very few campers in the lot, most of them heavy-duty winter types with several bits of snow gear strapped on. At the far end, though, is an old Winnebago that looks like it’s about to fall apart.

“That one is mine,” Indrid says.

Duck pulls up to it wordlessly. They sit for a moment with the warm grumble of the truck’s heater. Eventually Duck says, “Well, we’re here.”

“We are,” Indrid says, unbuckling his seatbelt.

Duck looks over. “Can I— I mean, if we’re gonna— do you have a phone number? It’d have to be, uh, a landline ‘round here, ‘cause we don’t have signal, but uh, y’know, so I can get in touch when the monster shows up.”

“I… have a phone that works here,” Indrid says vaguely, “Do you have a pen or something? I could write it down.”

“Yeah, one sec—” Duck digs through the center console and pulls out an old pen and a napkin.

Indrid takes it and, after a bit of scribbling with the pen, writes down a series of digits. “Here.”

“Thanks,” Duck says, “I’ll, uh, see ya later, I guess?”

“You’ll know when it’s time,” Indrid says cryptically. He opens the door. “Goodbye Duck.”

The door swings shut. Duck idles for another minute, making sure Indrid gets inside safely, and then turns around to head back home.

~~🗲~~

Home turns out to mean a whiny cat and a nosy neighbor.

“It’s okay, Toasty, I promise, I’m feeding you right now,” Duck says. Toaster is unconvinced, as she continues to claw at his ankles. “Look, the can is literally in my hand.”

Toaster meows. Duck places her dish on the floor. She rubs on his leg and goes to eat it.

There’s a knock on the door. Duck sighs and steps over Toaster to go open it.

“Hey Duck, I didn’t hear ya come in last night,” Leo says.

“Hey Leo, yeah, I got snowed in at the station,” Duck says.

“Really? I mean, this early in the season?” Leo asks.

“Well, y’know, climate change, and I’m a bad driver, and I didn’t close the station early like I should’ve,” Duck shrugs. Toaster seems to be done eating and is now trying to go out the door, so Duck scoops her up. She rests complacently against his chest.

“Boy problems?”

“What? No! Why— you’re like the second person this week to accuse me of some kinda romantic conundrum— and what does that have to do with leaving work early?”

“I’m just kidding,” Leo says, “I’ve watched way too many Hallmark movies the past few days, I think my brain is mush.”

“Have you seen Sarah today?” Duck asks. Toaster starts biting his hoodie strings.

“No, and I haven’t heard anything either. She’s probably sleeping in, I’m sure she’s pretty wiped out after all the lifting she’s been doing,” Leo says, “I helped her with some boxes last night but she’s got a lot of stuff.”

“Y’all gossiping about me?”

“Hey Sarah, how’s it going?” Duck greets.

Sarah is standing against the wall with her arms crossed, across the hallway from Duck’s doorway. She’s still in pajamas, a Metallica hoodie and snowflake-patterned sweatpants.

“Oh, y’know, sore back, I’ve eaten nothing but pizza for three days, the usual moving stuff. How was your overnight in the ranger station?”

“How’d you know about that?”

Sarah shrugs, “Well, if you’re having a conversation loud as hell in the hallway it’s gonna wake a gal up.”

“Oh, sorry,” Duck says.

“Nah, I’m just teasing. I was just talking to Juno on the phone and she told me you got snowed in,” Sarah says.

Duck raises his eyebrows. “Damn, she’s just laying all my business out like that on government time?” 

“Said it was with a nice lookin’ guy too.”

“He was not!” Duck protests. The napkin in his pocket weighs heavy. “Well— okay, I said that mean, he wasn’t ugly, but—”

“So it was boy problems,” Leo grins. Duck sputters uselessly, knowing he’s only making it worse.

“You’re just as easy to rile up as you were twenty years ago,” Sarah says amusedly. She steps forward and pets Toaster as she walks down the hallway. “I’m assuming y’all will be at the party tonight?”

“Yeah, I think I’m supposed to help set up, I’m not too sure what Juno’s plan is yet,” Duck says.

“Alright, well, I got some errands to run, I’ll see y’all later,” Sarah says, making a horns hand gesture and heading towards the stairs. 

“See ya,” Duck says. Toaster is starting to squirm. “Well, I got some chores to do, so I should probably get going on those. I’m guessing you got someone covering the store?”

“Yeah, one of the Hornets, nice kid named Brady. She wants to get into business management, I told her she could manage the place for the morning and see how that worked out,” Leo says.

“Oh, cool. Hope that works out,” Duck says.

“I’m sure she’s doing fine,” Leo says, “See ya later.”

“Bye,” Duck waves, backing into his apartment and shutting the door. Toaster launches herself to the floor and skitters toward the couch. “Are you gonna be good while I go down and do laundry?”

Toaster is too busy scratching the corner of the couch to look at him.

“Cool.”

Duck gathers all his laundry in the hamper and sets that by the door. He washes the knife left from his quick breakfast of jam toast and sets it on the mat to dry. The trash and recycling bins are looking full, so he’ll take those out when he brings the laundry down. Normally Duck wouldn’t think twice about this kind of stuff, but with the increasingly wack occurrences lately, the mundanity is almost comforting.

As Duck walks down the stairs with altogether too many bags, he wonders about Indrid. The man seemed to have his life together, just in a more mobile way. Duck imagines life as a rogue psychic isn’t easy. There’s probably a lot of running away and avoiding notice. Indrid is doing a lot better than Duck would have. 

Imagining his own life as a rogue psychic takes up the rest of Duck’s time doing chores. He makes it to his bedroom and changes into more comfortable clothes. A nap sounds real good right about now, especially after spending the night on that shitty old cot. He doesn’t need to do anything until the evening, anyway. The sky is a comforting grey, so Duck decides to go for it. He’s out before he pulls the blankets all the way up.

~~🗲~~

Duck is suddenly roused from his nap by a knock on the door. It’s dark, and the only thing lighting his room is the sharp green “4:28” of his alarm clock.

“Just open it,” Duck shouts.

The door swings open, and Duck hears the familiar clomp of Juno’s snow boots on the doormat, and her voice baby-talking to Toaster.

“Did you get everything?” Juno calls out.

“Yeah, I did, everything’s in the fridge,” Duck replies. He gets out of bed, rubbing away the sleep in his eyes. “Is it time already?”

“Just about,” Juno says, opening the fridge.

Duck steps into the hallway. “Damn, I must’ve totally conked out.”

“Well, how much did you sleep last night?” Juno raises an eyebrow.

“Indrid says I slept pretty heavy,” Duck says vaguely. He starts helping Juno take food for Sarah’s party out of the fridge.

“You got a vision, didn’t you,” Juno says.

“I did,” Duck admits.

“Wanna share with the class?”

“It was a long time of following a river made of static in a dark twilight zone and then a long thing of electricity came at me out of a white portal,” Duck summarizes.

“That sounds like a regular nightmare,” Juno frowns.

“I thought so too, but it wasn’t, ‘cause this one was in the weird style and it was all one thing,” Duck says.

“So you think it’s a lightning worm or whatever?” Juno asks.

“Well, I don’t have much else to go on,” Duck says.

Juno sighs and closes the fridge. “You think these things are gonna go through all the elements?”

“Like Pokemon types?”

“I don’t know, Duck, Pokemon is the closest guide we have to whatever the fuck has been going on lately.”

“I wasn’t kidding,” Duck says, “Do you think we should stock up on dirt to bury the thing when it shows up?”

“How big was it?”

“‘Least as big as me.”

“We’ll have to hold on that one then ‘cause I don’t think any dump trucks are out in this weather,” Juno says.

“Yeah, you’re right,” Duck says, opening the hall closet. “Are we bringing chairs over?”

“I think she has enough, there’s not too many folks coming,” Juno says.

“Most people left town, huh?” Duck says.

“It’s hard to blame ‘em,” Juno shrugs, “You know I’m only here ‘cause it’s where my job is. I mean, I love my job, wouldn’t trade it for the world, for the most part, but there’s more out there.”

“Maybe Sarah had too much of ‘out there’, lookin’ at the stars and everything,” Duck says.

“It still fucks me up to think about,” Juno nods, “Like, even without the existential crisis, we have tangible proof that there’s life on multiple other planets.”

“You think she knows about it?”

“I don’t wanna rule it out, but I don’t think she’s on our case.”

“We got enough of that with Agent Stern.”

“I still think we should just tell him and get it over with,” Juno remarks.

“There’s gotta be a reason they didn’t tell him, though,” Duck says.

“Well sure, the mass panic and all, and you can’t trust cops, but… I dunno.”

“You think we’d get him to quit and join our side?”

“I think he’d learn that the cop route is a bad way to go about things.”

“I still think we could pop his tires and send him out of town,” Duck posits.

“And turn him on the Hornets? We’re covering for them enough as it is,” Juno says.

“I know,” Duck sighs.

“We’ll hold onto it as a last resort,” Juno says.

Duck laughs. “Is this everything?”

“Yeah, I got Percy bringing stuff outta the car, so whenever Sarah gives us the go-ahead we can start carrying stuff over,” Juno says, looking over the assortment of things on the counter. She looks almost wistful, which Duck thinks is a weird reaction to a bunch of finger foods.

“Hey Juno?”

“Hm?”

“Is she still… I mean, do you still…”

“Have a thing for Sarah?” Juno looks over at him. She looks back down at the counter. “I don’t know. I mean, it’s been what, twenty years since I last really talked to her?”

“I saw y’all together at the high school reunion,” Duck says.

“That doesn’t count, that was like ten minutes, we barely had time to catch up with, fuck, sixteen years? And that was almost six years ago,” Juno says.

“I fuckin’ hate getting old,” Duck says.

“You think? I’m older than you!”

“By two months,” Duck counters.

“That’s two months of life you haven’t experienced yet,” Juno says.

“That was nothing. You just said nothing words. What does that even mean?” Duck teases.

“It means my daughter is in middle school and I’m realizing how much things have changed,” Juno says. Her joking tone has disappeared.

Duck sighs. “Yeah, it’s… it’s a whole different world from when we were kids.”

“I’d like to think it’s better, but…”

“Well.”

“Right.” Juno looks up from the counter. “This is a shitty mood to start a party with. Speaking of my daughter though, where is she?”

The unmistakable laugh of a thirteen-year-old sounds outside the door. Juno goes over to open it, with Duck close behind. In the hallway, Persephone is carrying a grocery bag and talking to Sarah. They both look over as the door swings open.

“Hey guys, what’s going on out here?” Juno asks.

“Persephone here was just saying hi,” Sarah says.

“Percy, can you take that stuff into Duck’s kitchen for now please?” Juno asks.

“Uh-huh.” Persephone shuffles past Duck into the apartment, trailing a curious Toaster.

“Nice kid,” Sarah says, “That sounded insincere, but for real, she seems like… a good child? I’m sorry, I don’t know how to act around kids.”

Duck tries not to laugh. After all, he was the same way back when Percy was little.

Juno waves it off. “It’s alright, at this point she’s basically a small naive adult.”

“Hey!” Persephone shouts from inside.

“Don’t worry kiddo, you’ll only get bigger and more aware of the world from here,” Juno says.

“She means it gets worse,” Duck adds with a grin.

“You’re not helping,” Persephone says.

Sarah laughs. “So she’s as smart as her mom?”

Duck watches Juno’s face change just slightly. Juno says, “At this rate, probably smarter.”

“Then I probably shouldn’t’ve told her about the motorcycle I have?” Sarah asks.

“I didn’t realize you had one,” Juno says. She looks both concerned and intrigued.

Duck steps in. “Do you need any help setting up before we bring stuff over?”

Sarah finally looks over at him. “Uh, I don’t think so? I just need to finish breaking down boxes.”

“I can help you out with that,” Juno says.

“Oh, it’s okay, it’s not that many, plus it’s kinda messy in there,” Sarah says. She’s looking only at Juno again.

“It’s fine, I ain’t gonna judge you for having a messy place right after moving,” Juno says.

“Alright, then follow me,” Sarah says, “Duck, if you wanna start bringing stuff over, the kitchen is like the one clean area.”

“Cool.” Duck turns back towards his apartment as Juno follows Sarah into her apartment.

Persephone is sitting on a barstool and facing away from the counter, holding a disgruntled Toaster. “She was trying to eat the spinach dip.”

“A criminal,” Duck says.

Persephone releases Toaster onto the floor. “We’re taking stuff over now, right?”

“Yeah.” Duck starts picking up trays, as well as the bottles of wine.

“You know Sarah, right?” Persephone asks.

“Yeah, why?”

“Mom didn’t really tell me anything about her.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” Persephone reaches over to pick up the bag she had been carrying earlier, before looking up at Duck. “Does my mom like Sarah?”

Duck’s eyebrows shoot up. “What do you mean, ‘like’?”

“Like, I dunno, she’s been acting all quiet and sullen since Sarah’s been back, did they have a fight or something?”

Duck breathes out. “Y’know kid, you’re too smart for your own good. But no, they never had a fight, as far as I know at least. I think… I think your mom knows that things are changing, and Sarah is the most— I guess tangible part of that. So what I’m saying is Juno doesn’t  _ not _ like Sarah, she just isn’t sure how things are going to settle.”

“That makes sense,” Persephone says. That’s the highest praise Duck has ever received from a middle schooler. “Do you like Sarah?”

“I think Sarah is pretty cool,” Duck says.

“She has a motorcycle,” Persephone says.

“She sure does,” Duck says, “Come on, let’s roll.”

The rest of the setup goes smoothly. Duck changes into a more ‘I am an adult attending a party’ outfit, and the party starts without a hitch. Leo gets there first, followed by Ms. Pearson. A few friends from high school show up, and then finally some of Sarah’s coworkers. It’s a small crowd, but Sarah had said she didn’t want a big event.

Duck sticks mainly by the kitchen, sometimes accompanied by Percy (who is mostly playing her 3DS and staying away from the adults) or Juno (who is trying to get Duck to talk to people). Juno’s attempts work for the most part, but Duck quickly realizes how little he has in common with most of these people.

By the end of the night, everyone has landed in the living room and is listening to Sarah explain why she moved back to Kepler.

“There’s been a lot of different factors,” Sarah explains, “After the management shift at the telescope a few years back the funding has been way off, ‘cause it’s corporate owned now, and Green Bank is like a destination now, so prices are up. Plus, y’know, when you’re looking at the stars so much, and most of your work is so far away, it’s nice to go home and remember where you started.”

Juno looks totally enraptured. Duck know’s she’s only a glass and a half into the wine, so she’s not going to do anything stupid, but he hasn’t seen her this interested in someone since… well, since Sarah was a part of their friend group back in college.

After Sarah’s little speech, people start heading out. Duck retreats to the kitchen again to help clean up. The spinach dip and various crackers are long gone, and everything else is picked over to the point of ruin. Half a bottle of wine is left, but after seeing the housewarming gifts, Duck is pretty sure Sarah won’t be hurting for more.

Juno joins him in the kitchen. “Duck.”

“Yeah?” Duck pops the last slice of cheese in his mouth before tossing the tray in the trash.

Juno’s voice gets really quiet. “I think I’m still in love with her.”

“…Alright.”

“You don’t sound surprised.” Juno starts meticulously clearing away trays.

Duck shrugs. “I mean, I saw you guys together from ages sixteen to twenty-two, y’all seemed like you were on a pretty good trajectory.”

“One that was doomed to split into two distinctly separate trajectories.”

“Really? ‘Cause it seems like you’re on the same one again.”

“Is she back on it though?” Juno asks.

“I don’t know, Junie,” Duck says. He offers her a hug wordlessly.

Juno accepts. “I’m gonna kill you for calling me that.”

“What, am I embarrassing you in front of your crush?” Duck snickers.

“No, you’re gonna reveal my full name,” Juno says.

“I feel like if you wanted anyone to have power over you, it would be the person you’re in love with,” Duck says.

“Maybe for you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’m not explaining with my child in the room, you know full well what I mean,” Juno says.

“Fuckin’— I’m tryna make you feel better, and all you do is bully me,” Duck mock-sulks.

“It’s okay, I still love you, even if your sex life is going to ruin our jobs.”

“I swear, tomorrow we’re gonna have to actually talk about that, because I can’t keep being accused like this.”

“I’m joking,” Juno says.

A buzzing noise comes from behind Juno. At first, Duck thinks it’s just Persephone’s game, but it keeps getting louder. The lights flicker. It sounds like it’s coming from the wall. Duck frowns and lets go of Juno. The heating doesn’t usually make that kind of—

A white disc opens in the wall. A wave of realization and dread washes over Duck. “Juno, run, go—”

Juno turns around and sees the glowing oval, now almost two feet tall and one foot wide. All the outlets pop, making half the lights go out. Juno takes off toward Persephone, grabbing her and pulling her towards the bedroom, where Sarah has disappeared to. Duck keeps his eyes on the disc, backing up slowly. If this is the thing from his vision, what kind of weapon could he use? Everything here is either metal or flammable. Duck grabs a rubber pot holder. It’s not going to do much, but he’s totally out of ideas.

Finally, suddenly, a white-hot rope of electricity lashes at Duck. Duck raises the pot holder instinctively. The force of it pushes him backwards, but otherwise he’s unscathed. The electricity is coming closer, making an almost unbearable buzzing noise. The portal or whatever is closing again. 

Duck hesitates for a moment, then strikes at it with the pot holder. He makes contact with something solid, and then the… serpent? Whatever it is shoots out the kitchen window, shattering the glass there.

The buzzing fizzles out, and some of the lights flicker back on. Duck blinks away the stars in his eyes. 

“What the fuck is going on?” Sarah yells. She’s standing in the hallway, breathing heavily and holding what looks like a battle axe.

Duck stands guiltily in the kitchen, gripping the pot holder next to the broken window. The electricity is nowhere in sight. “The… power went out?”

“Which broke my window?” Sarah asks.

“It— well, it uh, it got zapped,” Duck says.

“Why would you smash my window?”

“I didn’t! I swear to God, I didn’t break your window. At least not— no, I didn’t.” Duck shuts his mouth.

Juno comes out of Sarah’s room. Persephone is nowhere in sight. “Listen, Sarah, it’s— it’s okay, the power goes out in the snow sometimes. I don’t know what the window business is, but I’m sure that’ll get taken care of quick, right Duck?”

“Yeah— yeah, I’ll get Ms. Pearson to call someone, I’ll even pay for it, it’ll be done in a day,” Duck says. He makes a mental note to thank Juno.

“Okay, but why did it happen?” Sarah asks.

“I don’t know,” Duck says.

Sarah huffs. “What do you mean you don’t know, there’s a hole in my wall and you’re standing right next to it, didn’t you see what happened?”

“I— I told you, it got zapped! I don’t know— like, I’m not an electrician, fuckin’, I don’t know what kinda physics shit went on for that to happen, I have this here pot holder ‘cause like, I dunno, rubber is kinda electricity-proof, and I didn’t wanna get zapped,” Duck says. The cold from the open window is getting to him, freezing his fingers and face.

It looks like it’s getting to Sarah too. “Alright, well… I can take care of stuff from here.”

“I’m sorry, Sarah, I— I really didn’t mean for this to happen,” Duck says.

“I’m sure you didn’t,” Sarah says. Duck can’t tell if she’s being sincere.

Juno speaks up. “Hey, Sarah, if… if you want, you can stay— I have a guest bedroom, you can stay there for the night while so you don’t have to freeze here.”

“No, that’s okay, it’s fine,” Sarah says.

“Are you sure? It’s a nice guest room,” Juno says.

“You’ve already made me a whole party, I won’t take up any more of your time,” Sarah says.

“You aren’t taking up my time, I promise. It’s the least I can do,” Juno says.

“Okay.” Sarah sighs. “Lemme just… I’m gonna grab a change of clothes, and put something to cover the window.”

Duck steps back from the window and puts down the pot holder. “I’m going to head out, unless you want help cleaning up the glass.”

“Just go,” Juno says. There’s no bite behind the words, but Duck knows he doesn’t have a choice.

He leaves Sarah’s apartment feeling guilty and scared. He knows there wasn’t really anything else he could do to stop the lightning thing, but a part of him feels like it wouldn’t have happened if he hadn’t been there. The abominations tended to target him in some way or another before anyone else in the Pine Guard. And this… whatever it is, it’s not going to be easy to find, let alone kill.

As Duck steps into his own apartment, shucking his shoes and tossing his keys in the bowl, he realizes there’s someone else in here.

Indrid looks up from the couch with a slight smile. “Well, Duck, it looks like we’re meeting again a little sooner than we thought.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Duck has an unexpected visitor, a hard time, and a lot of phone calls. And apparently, everyone thinks he's dating someone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey yall back at it again with another chapter, this one earns this fic the necessary violence warning, but it's not between people and there's no blood. this chapter is pretty mean to duck, but they dont call me crow burn cuz im nice to my characters lmao

Despite everything that had happened in the past five minutes, the thing Duck is most worried about in this moment is the state of his apartment.

“Hey Indrid,” Duck says cautiously, eyeing the cluttered coffee table. “I’m guessing you found the spare key?”

“Yes, sorry, I would have asked, but you seemed busy,” Indrid says.

Duck looks down at the floor. “I— well, yeah, I mean— you knew this was gonna happen, right?”

“I couldn’t have done anything to stop it. Well, at least nothing that wouldn’t make things worse,” Indrid assures him, “As much as some photokinesis might stop it, we don’t need to make your neighbor any more afraid of the supernatural.”

“You have light powers? Would that actually stop it?” Duck asks.

“I mean, magic is magic, you can do anything if you use it right,” Indrid says.

“So you can kill it?” 

“I can contain it.”

“Is there anything me and the Pine Guard can do?”

Indrid looks off to the side. “Um, not really? I mean I’m sure I could teach your magician friend how to do the containment, but we don’t really have that kind of time.”

Duck looks at the clock and sighs. “Tell you what. I can call an emergency Pine Guard meeting, we can split into teams to look for this thing, and then get it under control, maybe take it to the radius and vaporize it.”

“Great idea,” Indrid says dryly, “Except it will never be that easy, because this thing is made of electricity and can be in any electric system at any time.”

“How do you know that?”

“I can see the future, remember?”

“Yeah, I fuckin’ remember,” Duck says, “You can’t see where it is now?”

“No, I only see it when it directly involves a future that involves myself. Hence the reason I came to your apartment building. I needed to be close enough for the visions of the monster to show up,” Indrid explains.

“Huh.” Duck looks out the window. “Should I still call the rest of the Pine Guard?”

“That’s your call, but I would say wait until the morning. Juno has a guest, after all,” Indrid says, looking back at Duck.

“Did you see all that, too?” Duck asks.

“I wasn’t intentionally eavesdropping on yours and Juno’s personal lives, no,” Indrid says.

“The way you’re saying that makes me think you heard it.”

“It’s not my business.”

“It isn’t,” Duck says pointedly.

Indrid looks away. “Regardless, the— have we come up with a name for this monster?”

“That’s usually what we do at the meeting,” Duck says, “Juno said ‘lightning worm’ though so I do kinda like that.”

“That’s fun. The lightning worm is going to strike again tonight, I’m not sure where. What place in Kepler would have a lot of electricity?” Indrid replies.

“Uh, I mean, not a lot of places are open at night, so probably one of the resorts, if anything,” Duck says, “That’s not good though, especially ‘cause it’s snow season, so there’s a lotta people there.”

Indrid is silent. Duck looks over at him. He’s sitting perfectly still, staring up at the ceiling. Duck wonders if he’s okay. A curious Toaster approaches Indrid, but when he doesn’t pay attention to her, she wanders off.

Suddenly, Indrid snaps back to life and looks at Duck. “I see a fire, an electrical fire, just off the highway, south of… H2Whoa. It’s— the whole building, it’s— a bar?”

“The Hornet’s Nest,” Duck realizes, “How long until it happens?”

“Seven— no, sixteen minutes,” Indrid says.

“Fuck.” Duck is glad he hasn’t taken off his shoes yet. He grabs a coat and his keys and yanks the door open.

“What are you going to do?” Indrid calls after him.

“At least evacuate the place. Unless you feel like doing your magic now,” Duck says, already walking down the hallway. He hopes Indrid will come with him or at least shut the door. The last thing he needs right now is Toaster getting out.

The door shuts and Indrid, now right next to him, says, “They’re not going to believe us.”

“You’d be surprised. By this point the Hornets have gotta know something’s up, and I’d like to think they trust me,” Duck says, starting down the stairs.

“Yeah, I don’t know them as well as you do,” Indrid admits, “In fact, I don’t know who you’re talking about at all.”

“You’ll see. Who knows, maybe they’ll like you,” Duck says. He holds the door open for Indrid and unlocks the truck.

“I doubt that,” Indrid says.

Duck gets into the driver’s seat and buckles his seatbelt. “Unless you’re a cop or a capitalist, you should be good.”

Indrid looks mildly intrigued. “Kepler has an army of eco-anarchists?”

“Pretty cool, right?” Duck is trying to drive as fast as he can without totally spinning out on the ice.

“I thought you worked for the federal government,” Indrid remarks.

“Yeah, well, someone’s gotta pay for my health insurance,” Duck says, drifting around a particularly dicey corner. “Plus, I think all the Hornets are under 30. Back— god, I sound old— back in my day joining a gang wasn’t really an option.”

“Kids these days with their revolutionary socialism and not wanting to kill the Earth,” Indrid snickers. Duck laughs.

They make it to the Hornet’s nest in an unimpressive eleven minutes. Indrid is out of the truck before Duck even puts it in park. Somehow he’s wearing a leather jacket now, maybe it was under the other jacket he was wearing? Either way, it looks good on him and Duck should really be running right now.

Duck makes it inside in time to see the 5’8” muscled figure of Hollis pointing a baseball at Indrid’s easily 6’5” lanky form. A silent crowd of Hornets is closing in on the scene.

Hollis lowers the bat as Duck enters. “Why are you here? Who is this guy?”

“This is Indrid, he’s alright, he’s here to help,” Duck says. 

Indrid waves, then loosely shoves his hands in his pockets. Duck hates how comfortable he looks, almost like he fits in. Maybe that’s intentional; Indrid might be trying to get the Hornets to trust him.

“Help with what?” Hollis frowns.

“In about four minutes, an electrical fire is going to break out in one of the arcade games, and unless we evacuate everyone and contain it, it’s going to burn the whole building down,” Indrid says.

Hollis looks at Duck, like they’re looking for confirmation. Duck nods grimly.

“Alright, well, you heard them, everyone out!” Hollis commands.

Just like that, most of the jacketed punks start heading out. Keith does what he does best and starts bossing people around. Duck has to admire their composure as they leave. Has Hollis been running fire drills?

“Okay, what’s really going on?” Hollis asks under the commotion.

Duck looks at Indrid. Indrid looks at Duck, and then at Hollis, and then back at Duck.

“Look, we have very little time,” Indrid says, “Please just get everyone out of here, I’ll explain after.”

Hollis looks unconvinced. “How do I know you’re not gonna wreck the place once we’re out?”

“Hollis, I promise, we’re just trying to keep everyone safe, okay? You know I can’t lie,” Duck says.

“But he might,” Hollis says, gesturing to Indrid with their bat.

“At this point, that’s a risk I’m willing to take. What’s the worst that could happen, y’all have to stand outside for fifteen minutes while your hideout  _ doesn’t _ catch fire?” Duck says.

“Fine. Fifteen minutes. And you owe me an explanation after. I wanna hear it from you—” Hollis points at Duck with their bat. “‘Cause I know you’re hiding shit, Newton.”

“Alright,” Duck says. Anything to get them out of here.

Hollis shoulders their bat and walks out the door. Keith is the last one inside; he side-eyes Duck and Indrid before he leaves.

“Now what?” Duck asks.

“Any second now,” Indrid warns.

He holds his hands about a foot apart, flat and facing inward. Threads of red light start to glow and spin together between them. Duck watches the threads spin together to form an elliptical orb. Indrid forces his hands together, and the red flickers into a very light pink. He spreads his hands out again, and the light shape grows, until it’s nearly as wide as Duck is tall.

“This is going to sound like a weird question, but what color was the worm?” Indrid asks.

“It— well, it was like a blue-tinted white,” Duck answers.

He never gets to figure out why Indrid asked that, because the closest arcade cabinet bursts, sending sparks and glass everywhere. Ropes of electricity strike out towards Duck and Indrid. Indrid flinches back, and the light he was conjuring jolts and splinters. Duck steps between Indrid and the lighting, which is slowly rising out of the busted game.

“What are you doing?” Indrid asks frantically.

“I’m trained to protect people,” Duck says, “Just do whatever you’re doing!”

Indrid exhales, straightens his posture, and reforms the conjured light. The shape now resembles a wide Pac-Man. Duck realizes that Indrid is going to try and trap the thing in the light. But the electricity is gone from the cabinet game, it’s—

A single sharpened bolt of electricity spears down from the ceiling light. Duck lunges back, but he knows it’s too late. The shock hits Indrid in an instant. It makes his whole body glow a threatening red for half a second. He drops unceremoniously to the ground as all of the lights flicker out.

Duck immediately crouches down next to Indrid. “Fuck, Indrid, hey, are you— can you talk to me? I’m sorry, this— fuck, I’m sorry.”

Indrid is twitching a lot, but he looks up at Duck. “Don’t take me to the hospital. They can’t help me. I’m not going to die but—” Indrid shudders violently. “—I’m certainly not good.”

“Where can I take you? ‘Cause we can’t stay here, and I— you clearly need help,” Duck says.

“Just take me back to my Winnebago,” Indrid says. His voice is getting softer, and the twitching less severe.

“Indrid, c’mon, I need you to stay with me,” Duck says.

“I’m sorry, Duck, you see, I’ve just been electrocuted within an inch of my life, so I’m maybe having a hard time,” Indrid snaps. 

Duck laughs, somewhere between panicked and glad that Indrid’s brain still works. “Can I carry you?”

“I don’t really have a choice,” Indrid says, the malice gone from his voice.

“Okay, let’s go.” Duck gets his arms under Indrid’s knees and shoulderblades. Indrid is taller than him, but he weighs practically nothing.

Duck walks resolutely out the door to the Hornets waiting outside. Hollis’s tough facade cracks for a split second when they see Indrid’s singed state.

Their brow furrows again. “Are we good to go in?”

“Yeah, it’s… the threat is gone, for now. One of the arcade games and a light is busted, but everything else— well, I don’t know that, but I don’t think anything else is damaged,” Duck says.

“Except for your friend here,” Hollis says.

“Yeah, we gotta go,” Duck says.

“You still owe me an explanation, or I’m gonna have to go looking for answers,” Hollis says.

“I promise as soon as no one’s dying I’ll get back to you,” Duck says, sounding a little meaner than he meant to.

Hollis looks at the rest of the Hornets, shouting, “We’re good to go back in, but be careful, there’s broken glass.” They turn back to Duck. “Come back tomorrow afternoon.”

“Alright,” Duck nods.

“Can we go?” Indrid cuts in.

“Yeah, sorry.” Duck shifts Indrid’s weight a little and hurries over to the truck. “Can you hold onto me for a second?”

Indrid’s arms wrap weakly around Duck’s neck. Duck takes his hand out from under Indrid’s shoulders to open the passenger door. He lifts Indrid into the seat and helps him buckle the seatbelt. Then Duck rushes around to his own door and starts the engine. His hands are trembling.

It’s a minimum twenty-minute drive from here to the campgrounds. The ice is only going to slow them down, but Duck can’t risk speeding up. He’s already put Indrid in enough danger tonight. God, Duck hopes Indrid will be okay. He has no idea how to deal with electrocution, and Indrid probably isn’t human anyway, so Duck’s first aid training is basically useless. The most he can do is treat the burns. They’re still ten minutes from the campgrounds.

“Duck.”

“What?” Duck replies, voice cracking.

“You don’t need to panic,” Indrid says.

“I’m not.”

“You look like you’re having an asthma attack. We can’t have two medical emergencies right now.”

“Sorry.”

“Why do you keep apologizing?”

Duck is taken aback by that. After a second of processiong, he manages, “Well— I made you come with me, and then I— I failed at protecting you while there was a monster around, and now you’re hurt and I’m taking fuckin’ forever to help you.”

Indrid shifts in his seat. “Okay, first of all, I chose to come with you, and I didn’t protect myself from the monster even though I should theoretically be capable of doing so. Second, what makes your safety less valuable than mine?”

“It’s not about value, it’s about my responsibility. It’s my duty to protect Kepler from whatever abominations are thrown our way,” Duck says.

“Are you not a part of Kepler too? More than me, at least,” Indrid says.

“Are you implying that you getting hit was the right way for this to go down?” Duck asks.

“Well, there’s no such thing as the ‘right’ way, and I’m not enjoying this outcome, but it’s better some random person get knocked out of commission than Kepler’s valiant defender,” Indrid says.

“I don’t understand what your problem is here,” Duck says frustratedly, “I’m sorry that I let you get hurt, and I’m doing everything I can to help, and I’m sorry that it’s not enough.”

Indrid is silent. 

Duck wonders if he just made things worse. The last thing either of them need right now is an argument. They’re almost there, anyway. Duck can see some of the RVs shining through the snow, just a little bit farther down the road. He turns off the icy asphalt onto the muddy gravel and winces as the truck navigates a particularly nasty pothole. Indrid doesn’t move.

After the longest drive in Duck’s life, they finally reach Indrid’s camper.

“Do you need help walking?” Duck asks, putting the truck in park.

“I’ll be fine,” Indrid replies.

“Are you— do you want any help inside?” Duck asks.

“If it would make you feel like a hero,” Indrid says flatly.

“If you want me to fuck off you can just say so, I just wanna make sure you’re okay,” Duck says.

“I told you, I’ll be fine. You’ve driven me home, which is as much as I can ask of you,” Indrid says.

“What— you keep talking in circles, I don’t know what you’re trying to tell me,” Duck says.

“You can leave,” Indrid says plainly, “You have helped me as much as you are able.”

“Are you sure?”

Indrid mutters, “I’m pretty fucking sure.”

Duck blinks. “Okay, uh, I’m— I’m sorry. I hope you heal up quick.”

“Thank you.” Indrid gets out of the car.

Duck watches him walk shakily up the metal steps and into the Winnebago. He feels bad, leaving Indrid alone, but the guy seemed pretty pissed with him. Duck doesn’t blame him. Personal choice or not, he knows that Indrid wouldn’t have gotten struck by evil lightning if Duck hadn’t taken off to the Hornet’s nest without a plan of attack. Or if Duck had just been paying attention, he could have seen it coming and done something. Done anything.

Whatever. It already happened. It’s too late. All Duck can do is make sure it doesn’t happen again. Tomorrow, when it isn’t almost midnight, he can call the Pine Guard meeting. He puts the truck back in drive and loops back onto the main road.

~~💨~~

The next morning feels dreary, even by December standards. Duck drags through his morning routine. He’s supposed to go in to work today, but one of the non-hunter rangers is going to have to cover that shift. Midway through a mediocre breakfast, Duck gives up and goes over to the phone.

He dials the number by muscle memory. “Hey, this is Ranger Newton, can I speak to M. Cobb?”

There’s a slight shuffle on the other end of the phone. Duck recognizes Dani’s voice say, “Yeah, let me forward you along.”

“Thanks,” Duck says.

Some clicks and beeps, and then there’s a different ambient buzz on the line. “Hello?”

“Hey, it’s Duck, the new thing is here,” Duck says.

“What’s happened so far?” Mama asks.

“Two sightings, one injured,” Duck says.

“In the same night?”

“Yeah, I’ll have a full report.”

“Meet here in forty-five minutes? I’m guessing Juno knows already,” Mama says.

“Sounds good,” Duck says.

“See ya soon.” Click.

Duck sighs. He dials the other number he knows by heart.

“What’s up?” Juno greets after a few rings.

“PG meeting in forty-five at the lodge,” Duck says.

“Is the window fixed?”

“It’s 8:06 AM, no the window’s not fixed,” Duck says.

Juno’s voice gets quiet. “So what, I’m just gonna leave Sarah alone? With Percy?”

“Listen, there was another attack last night, this thing moves fast, we have to catch it while we can,” Duck says.

“Where?” 

“I’ll explain at the meeting.”

“You’re no help.”

“I know.”

“See you there,” Juno sighs.

“See ya,” Duck replies. Click.

Duck breathes out. He hates phone calls. Still, he makes one more to the county Forest Service office to get someone to cover his shift at the ranger station. 

Once that’s taken care of, Duck wonders if he should call to check on Indrid. The napkin with a number is still sitting there on Duck’s dresser. It would be easy to just punch in the numbers and ask how Indrid is doing, make sure he’s recovering. But then Duck remembers how absolutely done Indrid sounded last night, and he thinks it might be better not to bother him.

All that’s left is to get going, so Duck fills up his water bottle, puts on his unofficial monster hunting uniform, grabs Beacon, and heads out. It’s a tougher drive, going up to topside in the snow. Normally, Duck might walk and take the funicular, but again, the snow. Duck really isn’t a fan of winter. Sure, it’s good for Kepler’s economy, but at what cost?

When Duck gets there, three cars are in the parking lot: Mama’s truck, Agent Stern’s sedan, and Ned’s… classic car. Duck can never get the name of it straight, he just knows it’s got good trunk space and a whole lot of Bigfoot merchandise on it. 

Duck wonders sometimes how Ned feels, now that he knows the real Bigfoot. Whatever the situation is, it seems to be working out in Ned’s favor. For the last couple bi-weekly brunches, Barclay hasn’t shut up about the guy. Come to think of it, Ned had approached Duck about said brunches recently, and Duck had not handled that in the way he should have.

Yeah, no, looking back, Duck had definitely screwed that up. He didn’t think to make it clear how that was platonic, because obviously, it’s Barclay. Ned didn’t know that, though. Fuck. Is there a way Duck can fix that without making things awkward? Why is his life suddenly some kind of TV drama?

Thinking about that gets Duck through the treacherous job of parking. He drops haphazardly out of the truck and goes to the door. Inside, Dani is sitting boredly at the reception counter, drawing something in a sketchbook.

“They’re all downstairs,” Dani says, looking up from her sketching.

“Thanks,” Duck replies.

He traces the familiar path past the stairs, down the hallway and to the left, down the steps, into the “mission control” center. Really, it’s more like an office breakroom that had been redone by HGTV and then a tornado swept through. At least it’s better than the stale fiberboard of the ranger station.

“Howdy,” Duck waves. A chorus of greetings from Mama, Barclay, Aubrey and Ned echoes back. “Juno’s on the way.”

“Was she there for the  _ two  _ attacks that happened?” Mama asks.

“She was there for the first one,” Duck says.

“Only the first one?” Barclay raises an eyebrow.

“She was taking care of the witness,” Duck says vaguely.

Ned seems equally skeptical. “There was only one witness?”

“Uh…”

Mama sighs and stands up from the table, going over to the whiteboard. “That’s not reassuring.”

“No, I mean, as far as witnesses go, we’re— my personal relationships will suffer for this one but it’s not mass panic in the streets,” Duck explains. He takes a seat next to Aubrey on the beat-up leather sofa.

“I see,” Mama says. She picks up a dry erase marker and starts drawing a chart.

The door at the top of the stairs creaks open, and everyone freezes for a second.

“Hey everyone.” Juno sounds tired. The door shuts and her footsteps sound down the stairs.

“Alright, now that everyone’s here. Duck, you said you had a report?” Mama says.

“Yeah— well— I have a recollection, yeah,” Duck says. Mama just looks at him. “Anyways, Juno was there for the first thing, so she can back me up. We were at a housewarming party for a friend of ours who just moved into my apartment building, and the party itself was fine, but as me and Juno were helping clean up, this— it was like, a kinda oval-shaped disc, of pure white light, but it wasn’t— it wasn’t bright? Like it didn’t give off light, it just had light in it. And out of that disc, came this huge… I guess worm? I’ve been calling it a worm. A worm made of electricity that’s like, at least six feet long, comes out of it. So I grab a rubber pot holder, ‘cause rubber is supposed to stop electricity, and I block this thing’s attack, and then once it backs off, I hit it again and it shoots out the window and breaks it.”

“Yeah, the window is gonna need to be subsidized,” Juno nods, “The friend, Sarah, she’s staying at my house, so I can, I dunno, I guess try and convince her it was a normal occurrence?”

“Do you know if she saw the worm?” Duck asks.

“She didn’t,” Juno says.

“That’s good,” Mama says. She looks like she’s thinking. She picks up a blue marker and labels a column of her chart ‘Witnesses’ under which she writes ‘Sarah’ with an asterisk. “What’s next?”

Duck breathes out. “Yeah. So, before I explain what happened, I gotta tell y’all about a person that I met— damn, only two days ago.”

“Oh my god,” Juno mutters.

Duck ignores her. “Right, so, I— I was doing my regular shift at the ranger station, and this guy comes in, I’d seen him around a little bit, he’s staying at Eastwood Campground, y’know, the RV lot. And he’s— he doesn’t look like the regular folks we get coming through here, but he wasn’t acting suspicious or nothing so I talked to him. And… apparently he’s a psychic who already knows about the abominations and he wants to help. Or, at least, wanted to help.”

“Is he dead?” Aubrey asks incredulously.

“No! No, he’s… he came to my apartment, last night, after the party incident, and warned me that the Hornet’s Nest would be next, and it would go up in an electrical fire,” Duck says, “So we hauled ass over there, evacuated everyone, so no one actually saw the worm. And… he was using magic, he was trying to, I guess encase it? We just wanted to contain it because we have no idea how to kill it. And he— well, there’s no talking around it, he got fucked up by this thing.”

“But he’s alive,” Mama says.

“Yeah, I got him back to his Winnebago, he said to leave him alone, so I did,” Duck says.

Barclay looks concerned. “What’s this guy’s name again?”

“Indrid,” Duck replies, “Indrid Cold.”

“Like the Grinning Man?” Ned asks.

Duck frowns. “The who?”

“Alien that showed up in the 60s, he’s a sorta weirdly proportioned humanoid, claimed to have psychic powers, talked like a thesaurus, was always smiling,” Ned describes.

“Huh.” Duck doesn’t like how well that description matches up. “Was he like, goth?”

“Most things say he wore a suit, but times change,” Ned says.

“Wearing a suit and being goth are not mutually exclusive,” Aubrey pipes up.

“Yeah Ned,” Juno says pointedly.

“I meant like Men In Black suits, not my perfectly styled high fashion,” Ned says mock-indignantly.

Barclay, who has been quiet since Duck said Indrid’s name, finally speaks. “Are you… sure that his name is Indrid?”

“I mean, he answers to it, and I don’t really have the grounds to be questioning anyone’s names,” Duck says.

“Yeah, maybe he’s just really into cryptid lore,” Juno says.

“And he just happens to have psychic powers?” Barclay asks.

“Lots of people have psychic powers,” Juno reasons.

“Okay,” Barclay says.

“What, I mean, do you know him?” Duck asks.

“I think I do,” Barclay says, “He and I aren’t on good terms, though, so I don’t… I find it hard to believe he wants to help our— our little monster hunting squad.”

“Maybe he doesn’t know you’re here,” Duck shrugs.

“No, I mean, you said it yourself, he’s got psychic powers, he probably knows I’m here,” Barclay said.

“Well, this is bigger than that,” Aubrey says, “Maybe he’s willing to make amends?”

“That’s not— I won’t get into it, but it isn’t his call to make,” Barclay says.

“Well, okay, hold on, should I not be talking to this guy?” Duck asks.

“I… it’s been a while, I dunno, maybe he’s changed. He came here during a monster month. He knows what he’s getting himself into,” Barclay says.

Mama cuts in. “Okay, so. Another witness.” She writes ‘Indrid’ in the column, then picks up a green marker. “Duck. What are its weaknesses that you know of?”

“Rubber can make contact with it, and Indrid said ‘magic is magic’ which I think means that it is affected by magic,” Duck says.

“But like, spell magic, not elemental stuff, right?” Aubrey asks.

“I’m guessing not fire,” Duck clarifies, “Or water or air, because those are just kinda conductors.”

“I gotta learn some ground type moves,” Aubrey says.

“Exactly,” Duck nods. Juno snickers.

“Are we actually basing this on Pokemon? Is that where we’re going with this?” Mama asks.

“I mean, it kinda makes sense,” Juno says, “Lightning rods direct electricity into the ground, which diffuses it, so I think it might be a good place to start.”

“Is this thing diffusible, though?” Mama asks.

“I mean, it felt solid to hit, but I didn’t exactly try,” Duck admits.

“Alright.” Mama sounds fed up. She switches her blue marker for a red one. “What can this thing do, then?”

“Make portals anywhere, be in any electrical system, hit people with electricity, it’s corporeal, I’m guessing it can start electrical fires?” Duck counts off.

Mama scribbles all that down. “Damn, these things are really getting tough, huh?”

There’s a collective sigh. Duck wishes he had more information to give. He doesn’t even know when or where this thing will strike next.

“I mean, if that’s all we got, what can we do with it?” Mama asks.

“It’s not gonna be easy to track,” Barclay says, narrowing his eyes at the board.

“I think it’s targeting places with a lot of electricity going on,” Duck says, leaving Indrid’s name off of this one.

“So what would that be? The resorts, probably, maybe the hospital?” Ned suggests. Aubrey sucks air in through her teeth.

“Do you think— no, nevermind, that’s outside the radius,” Juno says.

“What?” Duck asks.

“The telescope, but it’s way too far,” Juno explains.

“That might be its long-term goal,” Barclay posits.

Duck tries to find a different angle. “It felt— it felt like it was trying to cause a scene.”

“What, like it wanted to be caught?” Ned asks.

“No, like— it wanted to get as many people to see it as possible. It only lashed out when we got too close,” Duck says, “Like Sarah’s party, or at the Hornet’s Nest it came out of an arcade game.”

“Huh.” Barclay is still staring at the board. “So… it’s trying to draw attention to itself?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Mama concedes.

Juno nods. “It might be trying to, I dunno, start a panic, distract us, from whatever it’s really doing.”

“It’d be doing a real good job of it too, if we hadn’t caught it so early,” Duck says.

“Can you get your future-seeing friend to help us out?” Ned asks.

“I… I mean yeah, I should probably call him,” Duck sighs, “I’ll see if he can help us.”

“Okay, so you’re doing that,” Mama says. She turns. “Juno, I think you should follow up on the telescope thing, just in case, see if there’s anything it would want there. I mean, we don’t really know what it wants, but if they got lasers and shit that might be what it’s after.”

“Alright, can do,” Juno says.

“Ned, I need you on lookout. Any sign of this thing, you let us know and you try and head towards us. Don’t go putting yourself in any danger, but try and keep people away. Make a diversion, if you gotta,” Mama says.

“Sounds good to me,” Ned says over-enthusiastically. Duck can see him worrying the hem of his shirt.

“Alright, then Aubrey, you should talk to Janelle about earth magic and-or containment spells,” Mama says.

“Cool.” Aubrey gives a single finger gun. 

“I can go with Aubrey to the gate and see if there’s any hints about it there,” Barclay volunteers.

“Great.” Mama puts the cap on her marker. “That’s all, unless anyone has anything to add.”

No one speaks. Duck avoids eye contact with anyone.

“Okay, well, I’ll see y’all later,” Mama says.

“Yeah, I gotta get back home, I gotta drive Percy to practice,” Juno says, standing up. She signals for Duck to follow her.

“I should go too,” Duck says.

“Bye y’all,” Juno waves. Duck follows her up the stairs.

When they get back to the lobby, it’s empty. Duck notices Agent Stern’s laptop on the table. Everyone must be in hiding. Duck is just glad he doesn’t live with the guy.

They go out to the parking lot with a fresh blast of cold air. 

“Let’s get coffee,” Juno says, in the way that Duck knows they’re about to have a big conversation.

“Alright,” Duck replies, “Separate cars?”

“We have to,” Juno says.

She’s right, they can’t just leave their cars up here. Duck gets in his Forest Service truck and waits for Juno to get out of the parking lot. He follows her down the hillside and into town.

The Kepler Cup is much warmer than the basement of Amnesty Lodge or Duck’s car. There’s a small blaze going in the fireplace, making the air feel thicker. Duck orders his and Juno’s regular orders. The bell over the door rings, and Juno comes inside.

“Sorry, I had to call Sarah and tell her it would take longer,” Juno says.

“It’s alright, I just ordered,” Duck says, “Where do you feel like sitting?”

“We should take the couch while it’s open,” Juno decides.

“You’re right,” Duck agrees, “I’ll get our drinks, go save it.”

Juno is already on it, plunking down on the couch and setting her purse to the side to take up more room. Duck picks up their coffee soon after and goes to join her.

“Thank you.” Juno takes her drink. “I have two questions for you.”

“Okay,” Duck replies.

“First one: you didn’t talk to Minerva last night,” Juno says.

Duck thinks back to last night. He… didn’t meet with Minerva. It would have been during the party, so he would have had to leave for a minute. But Minerva didn’t even show up? That’s weird, especially considering how targeted the abomination’s attack was.

“Yeah, you’re right, that’s— I was distracted by the party, and the worm, I— fuck, that’s probably not good,” Duck says.

“Did you talk to her the night before?” Juno asks.

“Yeah, just for a second, like obviously I was snowed in with Indrid and all so we couldn’t really train, but she seemed like she would be coming back,” Duck frowns.

Juno looks like she’s thinking. “Do you think she’s okay?”

“I hope so,” Duck says, “The problem is there’s not really anything we can do about it.”

“Yeah.” Juno sips her coffee. “Okay, well, that’s something we should keep in mind. The other thing is, we gotta have a serious conversation about Indrid.”

Duck sighs. “I know.”

“He’s fuckin’ magic?” Juno whisper-shouts.

“I didn’t make him magic!” Duck matches her tone.

“And he’s hurt?” Juno asks.

“Yeah— I— well— I know,” Duck says, watching Juno looks increasingly disappointed. “I wasn’t gonna fuck with him though, he told me to go home.”

“Have you called him?”

“How would I do that?”

Juno just looks at him.

“He gave me his number before I got him shocked half to death,” Duck says.

“For business reasons, right?” Juno asks.

“Yeah Juno, I’m not— what is it with him? Am I giving off some kinda horny energy in response to this dude? I’m forty-three and passably unnoticeable, it is so  _ not  _ like that,” Duck says.

“You got muscles and a sword and pink hair, that’s not really ‘unnoticeable,’” Juno counters.

Duck runs a hand through his hair. “Is it that visible?”

“For someone like him, I’m sure,” Juno says. Duck sighs. “He noticed, didn’t he?”

“Listen, it was close quarters in the ranger station, it wasn’t like I could hide it,” Duck says.

“What’d you tell him?”

“Just that it’s always been like this. He didn’t push it,” Duck says.

“Well I mean, the dude’s walking around with hair like his, I don’t think he gets to question that,” Juno says.

“‘Least his is all natural colors,” Duck says.

“Why’s he dyeing it grey, then?” Juno asks.

“Fuck if I know, Junie, I’ve only know him like five more hours than you,” Duck says.

“Are you gonna call him?” Juno asks.

“I should.” Duck eyes the payphone outside.

“Do you have the number on you?”

“I… I kinda memorized it,” Duck says. He didn’t mean to, but he had been looking at that napkin a lot.

“Okay, wait, before you call him— be honest, are you into him?” Juno asks.

“I… I dunno, Juno, I don’t— I mean I feel like I would be, if things were different, but I’m not really thinking about that right now,” Duck says.

Juno gestures vaguely with her coffee. “Right, the super dangerous lightning worm and all that. But just give me an answer. Are you into him or not?”

Duck thinks about it. Yeah, Indrid is nice to look at, and he’s smart, and he would probably be nice to hang out with under less stressful circumstances. But then Duck remembers how easy it is to start arguing with Indrid. How aloof and assuming the man is. How easily he gave up on any risk that came up, regardless of the consequences. That’s not someone Duck could see himself with.

“No, I’m not into him,” Duck says finally.

“Alright,” Juno says. She doesn’t look totally convinced, but she knows Duck isn’t lying. “Do you want me to come with you?”

“That might be best, just so there’s someone to back me up on what he says,” Duck says.

“Ugh, but the couch,” Juno laments.

“It’ll still be here when we get back, it shouldn’t take that long,” Duck says.

“Famous last words,” Juno says. She picks up her bag. “C’mon, let’s get this over with.”

Duck heads out the door to the payphone right outside. He picks up the receiver and rifles through his pockets for quarters. Once he puts them in, he’s surprised at how well he remembers the number.

“Hello Duck,” Indrid says after the first ring.

“Hey, Indrid, how’s it going?” Duck asks gingerly.

“You don’t have time for pleasantries,” Indrid notes, “To answer your questions, I don’t know where the next place the worm will strike is, and I am feeling better.”

“Oh— okay, um, I’m glad you’re feeling better—”

“Hi Juno,” Indrid says.

“Hey Indrid,” Juno says, “Listen, Duck told me about what you’re doing here, I was hoping we could get a solid yes or no on you helping us out?”

Indrid is silent for a moment. “Let’s see, I… hm. Okay. Listen, I will be in town, you can come talk to me if you want, but I’m not signing on as an official hunter. I would like to stay as far from this thing as possible.”

“Completely understandable,” Juno nods, “Now, would you be willing to teach our resident caster how to do whatever it is Duck said you were doing last night?”

“Again, you can come to me. I’m staying in my trailer. It’s not that I don’t want to help your mission, but I do have to put my safety first,” Indrid says.

“Alright, thank you,” Juno says. Duck is impressed.

“Let us know if there’s anything you need,” Duck says.

“Of course. Now, your time is about to run out, so we will talk again when we need to,” Indrid says.

Right as he finishes his sentence, the call hangs up.

Duck puts the phone back on the hook. He looks pointedly at Juno.

“Yeah, you’re right, he’s a real piece o’ work,” Juno says.

“At least he answered you,” Duck says.

“He gets worse?”

“‘Worse’ isn’t the right word, I think… ostentatious. Maybe vexing. I don’t know, maybe it’s got something to do with how he can see the future all the time. Hell, he can probably hear us talking about him right now,” Duck says.

“If he’s eavesdropping that’s on him,” Juno says.

“Yeah,” Duck says, laughing a little. He feels better knowing that he’s not the only one being confused by Indrid’s weird convictions. “Back to the couch?”

“If it’s not taken by now,” Juno says.

“We’ve been out here for like five minutes, no one’s even walked by!” Duck teases.

“You don’t know that,” Juno shakes her head.

Duck just laughs and walks back inside, holding the door for Juno. His eyes adjust to the dimmer lighting, and to his surprise there are already people on the couch.

“Hey,” Sarah waves. 

“Oh, hey!” Juno replies.

“You said you were gonna be a bit so I figured I could walk over here, maybe experience more of the town, and Persephone wanted to come, I hope that’s okay, um, I didn’t realize you would be here,” Sarah says.

“That’s fine, I hope she didn’t give you too much trouble,” Juno says, “I realize this doesn’t look too professional.”

“I promise this coffee trip was strictly business,” Duck cuts in.

“Yeah, I saw you two huddled up by the payphone, I figured you were busy,” Sarah says. She still seems a little bit mad at him, which is fine.

“Yeah,” Duck laughs self-consciously, “Well, I gotta, uh, follow up on your window, make sure it’s getting fixed.”

He side-eyes Juno. Juno side-eyes him.

“That’s a good idea,” Juno says.

“Alright, I guess I’ll see y’all later,” Duck says, backing out of the cafe.

He climbs into his car as fast as he can while still acting like a human. This monster hunt is going to ruin his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im trying to keep to a every-2-weeks upload schedule, so hopefully the next chapter will be up on the 25th, but spring semester starts that week so it might be delayed. anyways this chapter brought to you by miike snow and trader joe's chocolate thanks for reading


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Despite Duck's best efforts, he becomes responsible for knowing things. And then to make things worse, the youth of Kepler keep dunking on him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one's shorter bc of plot reasons but youll see why also next chapter will be a real banger and like super long so dont even trip

Duck is in the middle of parking at his apartment when he hears a motorbike speed into the parking lot. He manages to put the truck in park before he turns to look. Hollis pulls up next to him and takes off their helmet.

“Hey, can we push this talk up a couple hours? I forgot I made conflicting plans so I can’t wait ‘til this afternoon,” Hollis asks.

“Uh, yeah, sure.” Duck turns off the truck. “Um, let’s— let’s go inside.”

Hollis nods in an ‘after you’ gesture and gets off their bike. Duck gets out of the truck and goes to the door, opening it for Hollis. Both of them are silent as they go towards the stairs.

Despite knowing them since they were a teenager, Duck still isn’t sure how to act around them. They have such a commanding presence. Duck’s only upper hand right now is that it’s his apartment.

They enter Duck’s apartment, and Duck has no idea how this interaction is supposed to go. Toaster pops up from the sofa and wanders over, but she keeps a respectable distance from Hollis.

“Uh, do you want anything to drink?” Duck offers, defaulting to his southern hospitality.

Hollis waves a yellow water bottle. “I’m good, thanks.”

Duck just sort of stands there for a moment before trying again. “Uh, make— feel— let’s sit at the table.”

Hollis looks almost amused at his awkwardness. Duck reminds himself that he’s almost twice their age and takes a seat at the kitchen table.

“So,” Hollis says, sitting down in a much cooler and more intimidating way, “There’s something going on, that’s been going on for a while, and as much as I hate to say it, it looks like magic.”

“What— what have you seen?” Duck asks.

“Never anything directly,” Hollis admits, “Some weird shadows here and there, sounds in the woods at night. And you have naturally pink hair and a talking sword and an eyeball that glows blue like Sans from the Undertale video game when you’re powering up or whatever.”

Duck blinks. “When I— what? Hold on, slow down. You’ve seen that?”

“You’re a shitty liar, Duck, and you’re even worse at being sneaky. You’ve got all the stealth and subtlety of a bear busting into a beehive,” Hollis says.

“I guess that’s kinda what I did last night, huh?” Duck replies, running a hand through his hair.

“More or less,” Hollis smirks, “Look, I don’t need your whole life story, I just wanna know what’s going on so I can keep my people safe.”

Duck sighs. “Now— okay, see, as a person I do wanna tell you everything you wanna know, but as an employee of the shadiest branch of the federal government, there’s some big consequences if this gets out.”

“Do you need me to sign something?” Hollis asks humorlessly.

“I… hm. This is tough, ‘cause signing something would almost make it worse, but it would deflect the blame as far as my sorta involvement, but then you become a liability—”

“It’s a risk I’m willing to take,” Hollis says.

Duck weighs his options. He takes a deep breath, studies the old-timey scientific diagrams of leaves on the wall, and folds his arms. He’s kind of hoping this makes him look more put-together and official, but really he’s stalling for time to think things through.

Finally Duck says, “Okay, so, here’s what I’ll do. I’m gonna tell you about the thing that’s going on right now, ‘cause there’s nothing in writing yet, and that’s the thing we gotta worry about. And then you’re gonna have to sign as a witness once the thing’s dead. That’s gonna be some paperwork, but then we— well, I don’t wanna involve you, ‘cause you’re technically a civilian, but… y’know, I trust you and your crew, for the most part. You do more work keeping Kepler clean than the cops anyway.”

Hollis laughs. “I’m okay with that. To be honest, Newton, I don’t want word to get out that’s there’s monsters in our woods either. It’s hard enough to get anyone to come here anyway, we don’t have the tourist pull that Green Bank does.”

“Some folks think monsters are a plus,” Duck says, “This is West Virginia, after all.”

“Ned Chicane is an outlier and should not be counted,” Hollis says.

“What about his kid? And his little gang of followers?” Duck says.

“Monsterfuckers don’t tend to show up for outdoor sports,” Hollis says, “Also, do you really think Kirby is Ned’s son?”

“Is he not?” Duck asks.

Hollis thinks for a second. “Actually, I don’t know. I didn’t think so, but now that I’m thinking about it— I’ll have to ask Keith. Anyway, tell me what’s going on.”

“Right. That.” Duck takes a second to figure out the most succinct phrasing. “So last night, there was a… sentient lightning bolt, kind of. That’s what we’re thinking it is, anyway. And it— before it came to your nest, it came out of the wall in the apartment right across the hall.”

Hollis glances over at the door. “Didn’t the astrophysicist just move in there?”

“Yep,” Duck says, “We were cleaning up after her housewarming party, and it broke right through her kitchen window. Then, uh, the guy I was with last night, he showed up and— hm, I don’t know if I should tell you this but he can kinda see the future, and he warned me that your place was gonna go up in flames. So then we went over there, right, and Indrid was gonna trap the thing using magic? I don’t know how that works, but it— the lightning got him before he got it, and it fucked him up real bad, so I had to take him home. And I’m guessing the thing left, ‘cause you don’t seem like you saw it.”

“Is there any way to find out where it is?” Hollis asks.

“I mean, it seems to be going toward places with a lot of electricity going, but we don’t have a way to track it,” Duck says.

“An EMP reader maybe?” Hollis suggests.

“That’s smart,” Duck replies, “I don’t— I’ll be honest I don’t know how those work so I don’t know how helpful they’ll be.”

“Couldn’t hurt,” Hollis shrugs, “So how do we know it’s still in town?”

“It can’t go beyond a mile of—” Duck manages to shut his mouth before the whole cat is out of the bag. “Beyond a mile radius from Amnesty Lodge.”

“Why?” Hollis frowns.

“I don’t know, that’s just how it lines up,” Duck lies, “That’s— maybe that’s why they built it there.”

“Are they in on this?” Hollis asks.

“Shit.” Duck figures he’d probably have to tell them anyway. “Yeah, they are. Honestly, you should go up there and talk to them, they can see more than me. But Ma— Ms. Cobb, the owner, and Barclay, they’re part of the team.”

“Just them?” Hollis asks.

“I mean, who else?” Duck deflects.

“The other people who live there full-time. The artist with the undercut, what’s her name, Dani? Or Jake Coolice?” Hollis says.

“Nah, they’re not part of it,” Duck says. Do they know everything? Yes, but they’re not technically monster hunters so Duck won’t count them. Besides, he knows how close Jake used to be with Hollis, and he’s pretty sure he knows why they split. He’s not about to add to that divide.

Hollis seems unsatisfied by that answer. “Okay. Is that it?”

“That’s as much as I know,” Duck says.

“As much as you know or as much as you can say?” Hollis checks.

“I mean— listen, Hollis, I’m pretty damn low on the chain of command, they don’t tell me a lot. Just enough to do my job,” Duck says.

“You never wanted to find out more?” Hollis asks.

“It’s not my business or my place to find out more. Even if they had a research team, there’s not exactly monster plants, so my room for curiosity is pretty limited.”

“You don’t know where these things are coming from?”

Duck almost wants to answer. “I don’t know. And to be honest, I’m not sure I wanna know. I dunno about you, but I don’t need some kinda monster dimension on my conscience.”

“Okay, yeah, I can see that,” Hollis concedes. They stand up from the table. “Thanks for clueing me in. I’ll try not to start mass panic.”

“I appreciate that,” Duck says, getting up to open the door.

“See you around,” Hollis waves, before walking out of the apartment.

“Bye.” Duck shuts the door and opens up his lungs.

He didn’t reveal anything too major, luckily. He’s going to be in trouble with the folks at Amnesty Lodge, but this has been a long time coming. Who knows, maybe this is the first step in a truce between the Hornets and the government, at least for this specific instance. Duck did what he had to do. That’s what he’ll tell himself once he starts regretting this, anyway.

“What d’you think, Toasty?” Duck asks.

Toaster blinks at him.

“You’re right,” Duck laughs sheepishly. Toaster squeaks and rubs on his legs. Duck pets her and sighs.

Out of the three things Duck is supposed to do today, only the most mundanely terrible one is left. He picks up the phone for the umpteenth time and calls the home repair place. 

They tell him that everyone is at lunch, so they’ll be over later to examine the broken window. Duck explains that the whole window is totally busted, so he can just go over and get the dimensions. That ends up being a hassle, but eventually the repair folks show up with a replacement window. Duck stands awkwardly out of the way and gets the bill so he can take it out of the government’s wallet.

The rest of Duck’s afternoon is spent halfheartedly preparing for the lightning worm. He doesn’t really have anything to counter it. His sword (which he should really take out for some air) is metal, so that’s a no-go. His only advantage against this thing is that he can probably resist it better than the average human. Maybe with some rubber padding, he would be protected enough wrangle it.

One of the other things Duck had to do, talk to Indrid, has technically already been done. But it doesn’t feel done. Indrid didn’t tell them anything, he just agreed to help from the safety of his camper. Duck doesn’t blame him, but he also worries about him. That Winnebago didn’t look very safe at all. Indrid was pretty adamant about it, though. Who knows, maybe he has some enchantments on it.

Should Duck go over there? There’s a voice in his head telling him he should, to make sure Indrid is actually doing better. But there’s also another, stronger voice that says it’s almost 6:14 in the evening. Duck needs to figure out what happened to Minerva before he can worry about Indrid. If anything even did happen. Maybe Minerva just got busy. Or maybe she needs help.

Now that Duck is worrying, time is passing as slow as possible. He can’t start anything else in the just-under-thirty-minutes until Minerva is supposed to show up. He starts randomly cleaning things around his apartment, which is fruitless because he’s already been doing that. Mostly he’s just standing in place, holding disinfectant wipes and randomly attacking various surfaces.

“Good evening, Duck Newton.”

“Oh thank god,” Duck breathes out. He drops the tub of wipes on the counter. “Hey Minerva.”

“I apologize for my absence. I hope you were not too worried,” Minerva says.

“I— uh, I was a regular amount worried, I think,” Duck says.

Despite her lack of facial features, Duck thinks he sees Minerva give a sympathetic smile. “Of course. I must tell you, the reason I was not here yesterday is that I have been working on a way to transport myself to your planet.”

Duck’s eyebrows shoot up. “You’re coming here?”

“I… am trying to come to Earth, yes. There is no guarantee. That is why I have been putting it off for so long. If I were to… not make it, all of the Chosen would permanently lose their abilities, and your world is in too much danger for me to risk that,” Minerva explains.

“What changed?” Duck asks.

Minerva sighs. “Your world… both of your linked worlds are in a lot of danger, because of something that I have done.”

Duck frowns, “What do you mean?”

“Duck Newton, I never told you why I started selecting Chosen people on Earth,” Minerva says.

“I mean, I’ve kinda been taking it for granted, I’ll admit,” Duck says.

“No, I… I have intentionally hid my motivations. As I… as I did when I delivered a deadly virus to my world’s sister planet,” Minerva says.

Duck doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t know where to start with that. “What— why? I mean, what happened?”

“Back when my world was alive, thriving even, I was the war counselor. I was in charge of protecting my planet from our linked planet. That planet was… strange. Entirely populated by insectoid people, most of whom belonged to a single hivemind. There had been some conflict, so I pushed for an attack in return. But when that hivemind commanded its drones to attack… the consequences were devastating,” Minerva says.

“So you had to,” Duck tries to reason.

“It was an unnecessarily cruel punishment to a people who could, with time and patience, be brought out of their hivemind state,” Minerva says, looking down. “We tried, with small test groups, but… to undo an entire planet of brainwashing, we simply could not do it. Instead we… we developed a virus that would wipe the remaining legions out. I delivered the payload myself.”

Duck’s heart sinks. “That’s… Minerva, I—”

“You do not need to rationalize it or reprimand me for it. I have lived with the guilt for nearly 200 years, I know what I have done. And that is why I sought to help your linked planets, so that the same thing would not happen again.” Minerva looks back up at Duck. “The virus did not kill the rulers of that planet. They managed some kind of artificial evolution to immunize themselves, which changed their physical form, so they no longer die of natural age. They are still out there, developing new technology and sending the monsters that are attacking your town.”

“Wait, so those aren’t from Sylvain?” Duck asks.

“No, they simply are delivered through the tunnel that links your planet with Sylvain,” Minerva says, “It is like— well, it is like a beacon. You have talked about bugs flying into a ‘zapper’ before, I am sure you can understand their navigation there,” Minerva explains.

“So they’re like hyper-intelligent bugs? And they’re immortal?” Duck asks.

“From what I have been able to learn, the remaining entities have used a combination of magic and technology to reforge their bodies out of light. This allows them to shape themselves into whatever is best for targeting you and your team. You told me the abominations have been getting harder. This leads me to think they are weakening Earth up for an actual invasion, to make it their new home,” Minerva explains.

“...Shit,” Duck says.

“Indeed. That is why I am going to come to Earth, to give you a better chance of defending yourselves, and possibly to scare them away entirely,” Minerva says.

“This month’s abomination attacked for the first time last night,” Duck says.

Minerva looks like she’s frowning. “I… hm. That is… on schedule, but it is not good.”

“Well it’s never good when we get attacked,” Duck says.

Minerva replies, “No, of course not, but while I am traveling through space our mental connection will be thin. Your abilities will not be as powerful. I have no doubt you will hold your own, but… what is the abomination?”

“It’s a lightning worm, like a— a living thing of electricity, that can go through walls and wires and stuff, make all the lights go out,” Duck says.

“That is horrific,” Minerva says, “Although I do not think I offer you any advantage against it.”

“Yeah, no, I’m just a little quicker back on my feet when it gets me,” Duck says.

“Have you been injured?” Minerva asks alarmedly.

“No, not— not yet, but someone has,” Duck says.

“Who?”

“Do you remember the other day when I was in the ranger station? The guy I was with, he was trying to help catch it, it got him pretty bad.”

“Oh.” Minerva is silent. Duck knows she wasn’t fond of Indrid, but he can’t figure out what she is feeling. “Duck, do you know where that person is from?”

“No, I don’t, I know I shouldn’t be talking to magical strangers, I’ve had this talk already,” Duck answers defensively.

“That is not what I meant, although it is a good rule to keep,” Minerva says.

“What do you mean then?”

“I mean to ask, are they from Sylvain?”

Duck runs a hand through his hair. “I mean, I’d assume so? He’s got magic powers and fangs, so that fits the MO there.”

“I see.” Minerva is starting to flicker. “I think we are out of time for today, Duck Newton. I will return once more tomorrow, but then I will be launching my spacecraft, and I will not be able to contact you until I make it here.”

“Alright,” Duck says. He’ll have time to ask more questions tomorrow.

Minerva disappears with a final wave.

Duck slumps exhaustedly against the counter. He isn’t sure how to handle this new side of Minerva. He already figured she has a tragic backstory, but he’s never considered her to be the bad guy. And it isn’t even that simple. Minerva was doing what she thought she had to, even if it wasn’t the right thing. 

Duck’s mind brings up something Indrid said last night. “There’s no such thing as the right way.” It strikes Duck as a little coincidental, but he’s definitely reading too much into it. Maybe Duck should just go and visit the guy so he can stop thinking about him. He doesn’t want to go alone, though.

With a deep sigh, Duck stands up. He might as well go to Amnesty Lodge and report on his situation. He’ll see if anyone wants to come talk to Indrid with him. Should he eat dinner first? He kind of hasn’t eaten anything all day. Come to think of it, that’s probably why he’s so miserable.

After a rushed dinner of grilled cheese, Duck tries again. He puts on his jacket and boots and heads out. He hopes he doesn’t get ambushed by any rogue Hornets again. Luckily, no yellow-striped motorbikes accost him, so Duck gets in his truck and starts up towards Amnesty Lodge.

The trip is just as rough as this morning, if not worse because it’s dark. At least the storm had taken all the clouds with it, so the full moon glints off the buildings and trees. It’s almost peaceful. Duck wishes it would stay like that.

Finally, he reaches Amnesty Lodge. Mama’s truck is gone. Duck figures that must be Aubrey and Barclay. He gets out of his car and goes inside.

“Hey Duck,” Dani greets. She’s sitting at the reception desk with a laptop.

“Hey Dani,” Duck replies.

“You’re back pretty soon,” Dani notes.

“Yeah, I’m here to ask for some—- well, backup makes it sound harsher than it is,” Duck says.

“An entourage?” Dani suggests.

“Sure.” Duck looks around. “Seems pretty empty in here.”

“Everyone’s in their rooms,” Dani says. She nods subtley to the suited man in the corner. Agent Stern is tapping determinedly away at his laptop.

“You sure you can’t just kick him out?” Duck whispers.

“If it were up to me…” Dani shrugs, “I don’t know. That’d probably make us more suspicious, which we really don’t need. Especially with you just growing out your pink hair in front of God and everybody.”

“Is it really that bad?” Duck asks quietly, holding his hairline.

“You’re starting to look like Gerard Way circa 2004.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“No, by all means, go start your punk band. You’re like the same age as him anyway,” Dani grins.

“Yeah, no, unfortunately I picked this gig instead,” Duck says.

“See, that’s where you went wrong,” Dani says.

“I know,” Duck sighs exaggeratedly. “Do you know when Aubrey and Barclay are coming back?”

“No clue. Aubrey said it shouldn’t take too long but that could mean literally anything,” Dani says.

“Right.” Duck looks out the front window to the parking lot. “Do you have any interest in going to talk to Indrid with me?”

“The psychic dude who got electrocuted?” Dani replies, keeping her voice down.

“Yeah.”

“Not really.”

“Alright.” 

Duck doesn’t know what to do now. He’s banking on Aubrey wanting to go, but who knows when she’ll be back. For now, Duck is stuck in this awkward limbo of standing silently near Dani.

Just as Duck’s social anxieties start to sink in, the truck rumbles up. Aubrey is the first inside, and she looks upbeat. She’s carrying a book and some scrolls. That bodes well for their investigation. Hopefully she got some good insight from Janelle.

“How was your trip?” Dani asks.

Aubrey grins and leans forward on the desk. “Pretty productive, Janelle gave me some homework so hopefully we can get this worm under control. What’s up, Duck?”

“Just stopped by to see if you wanted to come talk to Indrid with me,” Duck says.

“You can’t go on your own?” Barclay asks, locking the door behind himself.

“I just thought I’d offer,” Duck says. Barclay looks unimpressed. “Look, I feel weird being the middle man for this dude. I know you don’t like him but we need to stop this thing.”

“I know. If nothing else he’ll tell you about a whole different problem we didn’t know we had,” Barclay says.

Duck’s thoughts flicker to Minerva’s situation. “Yeah, maybe.”

“Are we going now?” Aubrey says.

  
  


Duck shrugs. “Yeah, I mean, we got a minute, you can put your books down— okay, I realize, I didn’t tell him we were coming, I just kinda assumed he’d know, which in hindsight is rude— is it too late?”

Dani hands him the phone wordlessly.

Duck takes it with a sigh. He dials the number. It picks up on the first ring. “Hey Indrid, sorry—”

“Hi Duck,” Indrid says, “Don’t worry, I think this is a perfectly reasonable time to come over. That’s not sarcastic, I know it sounded like it, but I am actually very nocturnal.”

“Alright, uh, I’m bringing a friend, she’s the magician, do you feel up to teaching her your spell?” Duck asks.

“Sure, I’ll see what I can do,” Indrid says, with the cheeky yet ominous tone of a hacker in a heist movie. “See you soon.”

Click.

“Seems like a nice guy,” Dani says dryly.

“Yeah, well, he’s helping us,” Duck says.

“I can’t tell if you’re into him or you hate him,” Aubrey notes.

“What? No, neither of those,” Duck frowns.

“No, I’m getting that too,” Dani agrees.

Duck huffs. “Everyone in this town is fuckin’— thinking I’m—”

“Everyone in this town is fucking?!” Aubrey exclaims.

“No!” Duck cries.

“It’s alright buddy, maybe if you go talk to Indrid you can be fucking too,” Dani grins.

“This place is a goddamn nightmare,” Duck says, hiding his face in his hands.

Aubrey pats him on the back. “I’m gonna go put this stuff away and then we can go.” She bounds off towards the stairs.

“Alright,” Duck says.

“‘Evening, agent,” Barclay says stiffly.

“Hello.” Agent Stern comes up from behind Duck.

Everyone stays perfectly quiet and still as he passes them. He goes down the hallway to the bathroom.

“We gotta get rid of him,” Barclay says softly.

“You think we could scare him off?” Dani asks.

“He’ll just come back with backup,” Barclay says.

“There ain’t an anti-law sigil you could put up, is there?” Duck tries.

“I don’t think so,” Dani says.

Aubrey comes back down the stairs. “Y’all are so quiet.”

“Agent Mulder just walked by,” Duck says.

“Gross,” Aubrey says.

“You ready to go?” Duck asks.

“Yep,” Aubrey nods.

“Let’s roll,” Duck says, pushing off the counter and walking towards the door. “See y’all later.”

Aubrey follows him. “You talk like a dad.”

“I am a dad,” Duck says.

“A cat doesn’t count,” Aubrey says.

“Are you not Dr. Harris Bonkers’s mom?” Duck asks.

Aubrey huffs dramatically. “No, I’m his co-host. God, it’s like you didn’t even watch my magic show.”

“I was literally in the front row of your last one,” Duck says.

“Well see, now you’re back in dad territory! Where is this energy from?” Aubrey points out.

Duck unlocks his truck. “I’m Persephone’s godfather, that’s gotta count for something.”

“Oh, of course!”Aubrey snaps, climbing into the passenger seat. “It’s the cool uncle vibes. That makes so much sense.”

“I coulda told you that,” Duck says. He turns the key in the ignition and it churns to life.

“Uncle Duck. That has a nice ring to it,” Aubrey says.

“No,” Duck shakes his head.

“Why not? I think it’s fun.”

“‘Cause it makes me sound like my main personality traits are fly fishing and having a mullet.”

“Is that not true?”

“I’ll stop this car right now and you can walk to Indrid’s place.”

“Now that was a dad move.”

“Why’re you tryna categorize my vibes or whatever?” Duck asks.

“Y’know, just to figure out what your style is,” Aubrey says.

“Stop tryna put me in a box,” Duck gripes, “This ain’t a phase, it’s just who I am. Just let me be myself! You do you and I’ll do me!”

“You’re off the rails, Duck!” Aubrey cries exaggeratedly.

They both dissolve into laughter.

The rest of the drive is pretty smooth. The ice has had time to melt under the sun and salt, so the roads are less hazardous. They make it to Indrid’s Winnebago faster than Duck expected.

“So like, what should I expect from this dude?” Aubrey asks quietly.

“There is no way for me to prepare you for that,” Duck says, “And also being quiet won’t stop him from hearing us.”

“Got it.” Aubrey walks up the steps to the door and knocks lightly.

The door opens, pouring warm light onto the damp gravel below. “You’re early!”

“Hey Indrid, this is Aubrey,” Duck says. Aubrey waves, and Indrid waves back. “How’re you doing?”

“In general? Fine. In terms of the injuries I sustained last night? I’m coping,” Indrid says.

Aubrey turns to Duck in an ‘oh I see what you mean’ way. Duck tilts his head at her slightly as if to say ‘right but you’ll get used to it’.

“Come in, it’s cold. And I need to tell you some things,” Indrid says.

Aubrey slips inside, and Duck climbs up the stairs behind her. 

The first thing Duck notices is how fucking hot it is inside this camper. Like, fire danger hot. Duck hopes Indrid has it under control. In any case, he’s not keeping this puffy jacket on.

“Can I get you anything to drink? Water? Eggnog? Capri-sun? I apologize, I haven’t entertained guests in a while.” Indrid offers. He himself is wearing a tank top and cuffed sweatpants. Duck notices a glint of orange hanging from his neck.

“Um, I’ll take a Capri-sun, please,” Aubrey replies.

Indrid nods as if that was the correct choice and steps over to the fridge. “Fruit punch or orange?”

“Fruit punch please,” Aubrey says. Then she whispers to Duck, “This guy rules, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Duck ignores Aubrey. “So are you feeling better for real? Like, is there anything we can do, or—”

Indrid hands Aubrey her Capri-sun. “Duck, it’s okay, I promise. I heal quickly, so long as I have a safe place to recover.” 

His tone is softer than Duck is used to. Duck isn’t sure why it throws him so much.

“Is it because of the crystal?” Aubrey asks. Duck shoots her a look.

“So you are familiar with Sylvain,” Indrid says. He’s looking a little closer at Aubrey now.

“That didn’t answer me even a little bit,” Aubrey replies, unfazed.

“No it didn’t, sorry. Yes, the crystal helps, it gives me the energy to self-repair, as it were,” Indrid says.

“You’re from there, right?” Aubrey asks.

“I came to Earth from Sylvain, yes,” Indrid answers.

“Can I— is it rude to ask like, what—”

“We don’t need to play twenty questions with him, Aubrey,” Duck says.

“No, it’s okay, I’d rather keep as few secrets as possible. Besides, I’d rather the people protecting the planet from monsters be curious than complacent,” Indrid says.

“So can you teach me how to do the containing spell or whatever?” Aubrey asks, sipping from her Capri-sun.

“Yes but not now,” Indrid says. He walks over to the wall, where there are a ton of drawings taped up. “See, there’s something very bad about to happen with your friend Ned Chicane, I believe his name is?”

“What?” Aubrey replies.

Indrid points to a pen sketch near the middle of the wall. “In an act of isolationist heroism, he’s going to use a jetpack—” Indrid traces the weird backpack on Ned. “—to launch himself at the big Pizza Hut sign, wearing a rubber suit in hopes of dissolving the lightning worm—” Indrid points at another drawing higher up on the wall, featuring the Pizza Hut highway sign surrounded by lightning bolts. “—which is possessing the sign, using a bag of sandbox filler sand.”

“What the fuck?” Duck mutters.

“I mean, it sounds like something Ned would do,” Aubrey reasons.

“How long do we have?” Duck asks.

Indrid counts on his fingers. “A solid 21 minutes, but divide your time wisely because the sign, if not intervened with, will fall on the general store. Leo is currently in there doing a last inventory before the Christmas groceries rush so he stayed late, and he has an employee with him.”

“Shit.” Duck checks his watch. “You wouldn’t happen to have any pre-perfected plans, would you?”

“Unfortunately not, but just on my own wisdom I’d say Aubrey focus on keeping the sign up, and Duck, you call all the necessary folks to help Ned when he does crash into the sign,” Indrid advises.

“So there’s no way to stop him from doing that?” Duck asks.

“Well it’s Ned’s health or the two people and infrastructure in Leo’s store, you can do the math there,” Indrid says.

“There’s gotta be a way to save both of ‘em,” Duck insists.

“There is, but you’re wasting time. If you can break Ned’s fall and pre-call the ambulance, he has a very good chance of surviving. He’ll likely need a cane, but as far as jetpack incidents go I think that’s one of the better outcomes,” Indrid says.

“Alright, can we come back later?” Duck asks, putting his jacket back on.

“Of course, I’ll be here,” Indrid says.

“Right.” Duck opens the door.

“Bye Indrid,” Aubrey says, following Duck.

The door shuts loudly behind them. Duck isn’t wasting time on pretending to run at human speed, he’s already in the car. Aubrey is close behind him, and she clicks her seatbelt into place as Duck pulls back onto the road.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Duck experiences the longest two and a half days of his life and all he gets for it is more phone calls.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS FOR THIS CHAPTER:  
> blood, blunt trauma, hospitals, emetophobia
> 
> sounds great right? it's not really Too Bad but i do wanna put warnings up just in case. anyways this chapter is a rollercoaster so id recommend rereading the other chapters before reading this one. also as far as the characters in this one? The Girls are In.

“So what actually are we planning?” Aubrey asks. Duck can hear her trying to tone down the frantic energy behind her words.

“I figured we could come up with that while we drove,” Duck admits.

“Indrid’s ideas seemed pretty solid,” Aubrey says, “I can use maybe wind magic to keep the sign up? You should call an ambulance for sure, and then maybe Barclay?”

“Yeah, that sounds good,” Duck says, “I’m tryna think— Ned’s gonna need something to cushion his fall. Is there— you think maybe he’s got stunt mats at the Cryptonomica?”

“When has there ever been stunts on SND?” Aubrey asks.

“It’s Ned!” Duck exclaims.

“That’s a good point,” Aubrey says, “Call Kirby then.”

“Alright.” Duck speeds up a little more as he gets on the highway. 

The drive from there is short and tense. Duck has to slow down as they get closer to the main road so he doesn’t get pulled over. Still, they make it there with about ten minutes to spare, and everything looks perfectly normal. Duck parks across the street from Leo’s store, and he and Aubrey hop out.

“Is there some kinda scanning you can do to see if the worm is in the sign?” Duck asks.

“I can try,” Aubrey says. She pulls down her sunglasses, revealing one orange eye that glows in the moonlight. She squints at the metal pole. “Yeah there’s definitely something in there.”

“Fuck.” Duck spots the payphone. “I’m gonna call people, see if you can figure out something to keep it from getting out.”

“Indrid never taught me how to do it!” Aubrey shouts as he walks away.

“You’re smart, figure something out!” Duck yells back.

He looks at the payphone. Based on how far everyone is, he needs to call Barclay first. He punches in the Pine Guard-specific number for Amnesty Lodge and puts in some change.

After a couple rings, it picks up. “This is Barclay, what’s going on?”

“Ned is about to slam into the big Pizza Hut sign,” Duck says.

“What? Why? Can’t you stop him?” Barclay replies.

“I can’t. Listen, it’ll all make sense in like ten minutes, can you just get down here? You’re the only who can talk sense into him anyways,” Duck says.

“What about Kirby? He’s closer,” Barclay says. Duck can hear him grabbing the truck keys.

“I’m also calling Kirby, but he’s an enabler,” Duck says.

“You’re right. I’ll be there soon,” Barclay says.

“Thank you.” Duck hangs up. 

He checks his watch in the light of the streetlamp. Six minutes. He calls the Cryptonomica.

“This is the Cryptonomica, Kepler’s home of mystique and macabre, how can I help you today?” Kirby picks up.

“Kirby, where’s Ned?” Duck asks.

“He just left, why?” Kirby answers.

“Because he’s about to do something real dumb so I need you to get down here to the Pizza Hut quick,” Duck says.

“Super confusing sentence you got there. I’ll be there in a minute,” Kirby says.

“Great.” Click.

Duck looks at his watch again. Four minutes. He looks up at the Pizza Hut. Sure enough, the unmistakable silhouette of Ned with a jetpack is standing up there. Now to call the ambulance.

“911, what is your emergency?” the dispatcher says.

“We need an ambulance at the Pizza Hut, uh, someone— someone’s hurt, they fell off the roof—”

Someone is yelling. It’s Aubrey, she’s shouting, “Hit the plastic! Don’t hit the pole!”

Jetpack sounds interrupt the rest of Duck’s thoughts, and Ned is now flying wildly through the air. He seems almost competent with the controls, but it’s still an experimental magic jetpack.

“Can you describe the condition of the injured person?” the dispatcher asks.

“Uh… he’s breathing, but— he’s not looking real good in the bones— blood— he’s bleeding?” Duck isn’t Indrid, he doesn’t have a pre-sorted list of carnage to tell people.

“We’re sending an ambulance over,” the dispatcher says.

“Okay,” Duck says. He hangs up.

The jetpack is sputtering out sharp flames. Ned is still attempting to spiral upwards around the sign, brandishing the bag of sand. He looks like a very confusing moth, circling the glowing Pizza Hut logo. Duck moves as if to stand under Ned, but he realizes there is no way that’s going to go well. 

The sirens of an ambulance start up a few streets over. 

Aubrey is standing in a tense lunge, like she’s bracing against a very strong wind. Sure enough, a gust sweeps up and swirls around, creating a sphere of air that Duck feels more than he sees. Aubrey mimes lifting with her arms and the sphere begins to rise.

“Duck, get people out of the store!” Aubrey shouts.

“On it.” 

Duck races to the door of the general store. There’s no sign of a commotion inside. Leo and his new employee Brady are standing at the door to the back rooms. 

“Duck, what’s going on?” Leo’s voice is hardened and unsurprised.

“Y’all need to get out of here, everything will be fine, but safety,” Duck directs. He wishes he was better at forming sentences in a crisis. Everything feels like it’s moving in slow motion.

Leo’s face turns to stone. “Let’s go.”

He walks from behind the counter, past Duck, trailing a confused Brady.

“What’s going on?” Brady asks.

“Someone will explain later,” Duck assures her.

A nasty shocking sound and a muffled crash come from outside. Duck winces and passes Brady on the way out the door.

Lying on the sidewalk is Ned, sans jetpack, flat on his back, smoking slightly, his head propped up on a leaking bag of artificial sand. The pooling yellow of the streetlights cast him in stark purple shadows. Duck can still tell that there’s blood.

“This was a bad idea,” Ned coughs.

“It’s okay, just don’t— don’t make it worse,” Duck says, putting himself between Ned and the growing crowd of onlookers. “An ambulance should be here any second now.”

“Hey Ned, what the fuck?!” Kirby sprints up to the scene.

“Oh, hello Kirby—” Ned coughs some more. He sounds bad. “I hope you were filming.”

Kirby slams the camcorder shut. “You coulda died!”

“But I didn’t!” Ned points out.

Duck doesn’t hear the rest of the conversation. He’s too busy keeping the impromptu audience back. 

The Pizza Hut sign looms above, and it flickers as Duck looks up at it. The full moon is peering through a break in the clouds, right over the sign. 

Aubrey is saying something— “Where’s Barclay?” is what she’s asking.

“Right fuckin’ here.” 

For as long as Duck has known him, Barclay has always been on the milder side of monster hunters. But he knows that tone. There’s just one thing that flips the switch from the kind chef everyone knows and loves to a Bigfoot capable of hurting someone. Barclay never tolerates it when anyone that he cares about gets hurt. Seeing Ned laid out on the sidewalk like an action figure tossed over the banister of the stairs is more than enough.

“Will you go with him in the ambulance?” Duck asks.

“Yeah.” Barclay is standing over Ned, and even Duck and Aubrey move back a little. Only Kirby is still hovering close by.

“I’m still conscious, I can go by myself,” Ned says. He doesn’t sound very conscious.

“I’m coming with you,” Barclay insists. He turns back to Duck and Aubrey. “Make sure that thing doesn’t get away.”

“We’ll try our best,” Aubrey says. She’s shaking. 

Duck puts a hand on her shoulder. “Go, we’ll meet you at the hospital. Kirby, you too, take a car.”

Kirby nods. Barclay doesn’t really move, but Duck knows he heard him. 

Flashing lights and sirens pull up behind them, creating stop-motion shadows. People talk in authoritative tones, doors slam. The paramedics lift Ned onto the stretcher and wheel him off, with Barclay following close behind. Kirby nervously pushes the buttons on Ned’s car keys and tries to echolocate for it.

It’s just Aubrey and Duck at the scene of the crime now. The crowd of people is starting to dissipate. Leo is distracting Brady, but he looks past her to Duck.

Duck shakes his head slightly and nods towards the end of the street. He doesn’t know what this electric motherfucker’s range is and he doesn’t want innocent civilians to find out. Leo gets the message and starts leading Brady down the street.

Suddenly, the payphone rings.

The sound startles Duck, but he races over to it.

“Hi, it’s Indrid, you know that, give Aubrey the phone,” Indrid greets.

“Aubrey! It’s for you!” Duck yells.

Aubrey hurries over. Duck shoves the phone in her hands.

“Hey Aubrey, time for some practical education,” Indrid says, “You see your magic like colors in your head when you do it, right? Kind of like synesthesia?”

“Yeah, how did you—”

“Don’t worry about it. Make the darkest orange you can think of where it still glows,” Indrid says.

“What? How do I make it a color?”

“Take deep breaths probably, think about jack o’lanterns and sodium-based streetlights and red giant stars. Focus your brain like you’re forcing a spotlight into a laser,” Indrid instructs.

Aubrey is silent. She tucks the phone between her cheek and her shoulder and she squeezes her hands together. Deep orange light begins to glow in the cracks between her fingers.

“You’re going to want to take that little pocket you’ve just created and make it big. Make it a little bigger than Duck,” Indrid says.

Duck steps back in preparation.

“I just spread out my hands?” Aubrey asks. Her eyes are shut.

“Yes but keep the energy consistent. Don’t let it spread out, make it grow,” Indrid replies.

Aubrey takes another moment to strengthen the glow between her palms, then yanks her arms apart. Between them, a ball of deep orange light radiates heat.

“What now?” Aubrey asks quietly.

“Don’t miss,” Indrid says simply.

Aubrey sucks in air through her teeth, and with a forced motion she launches the sphere at the Pizza Hut sign. It moves fast, but it’s like it got clotheslined on the metal pole. As soon as it makes contact, the lightning worm arcs out of the sign, sending sparks everywhere. 

The lights in the Pizza Hut and its sign flicker into darkness. Leo’s store makes some threatening crackling noises, and then it goes dark too. All the streetlights go out with a pop. 

The lightning worm curls down like it’s sizing Aubrey up. Aubrey’s eyes are still shut, which Duck is secretly glad for. The orange orb starts to close around the tail of the worm, but instead of fully encompassing it, the worm emits a horrible static noise and shoots straight up into the sky.

“Fuck!” Aubrey shouts. Her hands, still illuminated with wispy red light, clench into fists. Duck recognizes that look, but he won’t bring it up while Indrid can still comment.

“You did remarkably well for the first time doing that,” Indrid says calmly, “And don’t be too hard on yourself, there was no way one person could take this thing down on their own. I learned that the hard way.”

“But I had it,” Aubrey says.

“This thing has powers greater than anything the Pine Guard has faced before, no one can be upset at you for not getting it on the first try,” Indrid says, “And no, it won’t be your fault if anyone else gets hurt.”

Duck is almost impressed by Indrid’s ability to say the right thing. Granted, Indrid can see the future, but even his tone is soothing.

“We should get to the hospital,” Aubrey says finally, steeling herself.

“Yes. I’ll talk to you all later, I hope Ned is doing alright,” Indrid says.

“Bye,” Aubrey says. She puts the phone back on the hook. She’s crying.

Duck offers her a hug wordlessly. Aubrey collapses against his chest with a choked sob.

“It’s gonna be okay,” Duck says. He doesn’t know if that’s actually true, but someone has to believe it.

Aubrey sniffles. “Duck, I— I’m actually scared, of this one. I mean the other monsters have been scary ‘cause like, y’know, regular monster reasons, but… we could kill those. Can we even kill this one?”

Duck sighs. “I… I dunno, Aubrey, I can’t make any promises, but you did a real good job, so I think if this thing shows up again, we have a pretty good chance of beating it.”

“Indrid said I can’t do it by myself,” Aubrey says.

“I mean, you have the whole Pine Guard behind you, and who knows, maybe we can get Indrid to help us again,” Duck says.

“Yeah,” Aubrey says. She seems like she’s calmed down, and she pulls back. “We should go.”

“We should.”

They head back to Duck’s truck. The frantic energy from earlier is gone, leaving just solemn exhaustion. Duck couldn’t form a solid thought if his life depended on it. He knows that Ned is going to be okay. He has to be okay. Indrid said Ned would be okay. 

And then Duck realizes that he’s been putting a lot of stock in the words of a man who had been lying to him for about half the time they’d known each other. Sure, none of Indrid’s predictions had been wrong before. But after seeing how well he dealt with Aubrey’s panic, Duck can’t help but wonder how much Indrid has been twisting the truth to make him feel better. 

Duck understands why Indrid would do that; in a way, they’re both responsible for hiding doom from the world. Maybe it was even a placebo effect. if Indrid could convince Duck that things would be okay, then Duck would be determined to make that happen. After all, that seemed to be Minerva’s strategy.

Whatever. That’s not important right now. Indrid will still be there to criticize in the morning. Right now, they need to make sure Ned is doing okay. Duck is still moving on autopilot, so he doesn’t even realize he parked the car two minutes ago.

“We have to go in there,” Aubrey says finally.

“Right.” Duck unbuckles his seatbelt and gets out.

They walk into the artificial white light of the hospital. The receptionist at the desk looks up.

“We’re here to see Ned Chicane,” Duck says. He pulls out his Pine Guard patch.

“He’s in the ICU, we can’t allow more than two visitors in at a time,” the receptionist says.

“Is he still like, conscious?” Aubrey asks.

“I can’t give you that information,” the receptionist says.

“Okay, um, fuck— Aubrey, ask Kirby if you can switch places with him for a bit,” Duck says.

“What about you?” Aubrey replies.

“I’ll go in after. I don’t Barclay’s gonna leave Ned alone— basically ever, at this point,” Duck says.

“I wouldn’t either,” Aubrey says. She pulls out her phone and starts typing.

A minute later, Kirby emerges from the ICU doors. 

“How is he?” Duck asks.

“He’s definitely going to make it,” Kirby says, “He’s on some serious painkillers, so he’s kind of out of it. Chances are he’ll try and kick you out every two minutes ‘cause he’s mad we’re worrying about him. But whatever you did, Aubrey, it definitely made a difference. He’s only got a couple bonked ribs and hip.”

“Now you say ‘bonked,’ what is that in medical terms?” Aubrey asks.

“Well, uh, I mean, some are bruised, some are broken. He did some x-rays and the doctors said it would all heal with time,” Kirby says, “They said he’s probably gonna need a cane, so that’s my new mission. He said he would only use a really cool-lookin’ one. Think he said like a ‘statement piece’ or something like that. Maybe one with a knife in the handle.”

Aubrey nods. “That would be cool, maybe with like a skull or a rose on the handle part.” 

“Yeah, for sure. He wants it to light up, too. I’m hoping I can get Keith to help me rig up some pressure-sensor LEDs, preferably before Ned gets out of the hospital. I’m worried he won’t settle for a temporary aluminum one and Barclay is gonna have to carry him around,” Kirby says. Duck laughs.

“Oooh, maybe you could put like gems in a skull’s eye sockets, and then like acrylic spiderweb patterns down the cane itself,” Aubrey says.

Kirby laughs a little. “That would be epic. I’ll go see what I can scrap together, text me when y’all are done.”

“Will do,” Duck nods.

Kirby waves and walks out of the building, jangling Ned’s car keys anxiously.

“So,” Aubrey huffs, “Guess I’m up.”

“You’ll be fine. He’ll be fine,” Duck assures her.

“I know.” Aubrey goes for the ICU doors.

Now Duck is alone in the lobby of the hospital. It’s a really grim place to be, even on a good day. This definitely isn’t a good day, so it’s really shitty in here, actually. It’s almost ten. Duck hasn’t slept in a while. The white fluorescents are burning their way through his eyes. He probably looks like shit.

The phone rings. Duck jumps. The receptionist picks it up, someone says something on the other end, the receptionist frowns. 

“You’re Duck, right?” the receptionist asks.

“Yeah,” Duck says.

“It’s for you.” The receptionist doesn’t seem very happy about that.

“Thanks.” Duck takes the phone. “Do you need something else?”

“You’re not going to be able to catch the thing before the week ends,” Indrid says.

“Fuck off,” Duck replies.

“I wish I was kidding, Duck, this isn’t fun for me either,” Indrid says.

“No, but it might be over quicker if you’d bothered helping.”

“I’m sorry, the last time I tried that, I nearly died. But yes, sure, it’s my fault.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You meant it.”

Duck adjusts the phone against his ear and lowers his voice. “Why do you keep picking fights? Surely you gotta see it coming when you keep fuckin’ antagonizing me while I’m trying to make sure someone is okay.”

“I am not picking fights, you picked a fight when I tried to give you a heads-up on the possibly world-ending threat that, if I remember what  _ you said _ correctly, it’s your responsibility to stop from happening. And then, also in your words, I’m supposed to ‘fuck off.’ Which one of us is being more aggressive?” Indrid asks. His tone is so perfectly even that Duck wants to dent it.

“Which one of us just saved people’s lives?” Duck counters.

“Neither of us. Aubrey did.”

“Fuckin’— I know.” Duck deflates. “I’m sorry. Really. This isn’t your fault. I’m just— just lashing out, and you don’t deserve that.”

“I know,” Indrid says simply. 

“Did you have any more information on what you said, or should we just start battening the hatches and all that?” Duck asks tiredly.

“I’m not seeing everything yet, I just wanted to warn you as soon as I realized. I’ll call again when I know more,” Indrid says.

“Why don’t you call the lodge or something?” Duck asks.

“I don’t have the number,” Indrid lies.

“Okay.” Duck thinks he knows why.

“Bye Duck.” Click.

Duck hands the phone back. “Thank you, sorry ‘bout that.”

“Don’t worry about it,” the receptionist says dully.

Now Duck is once again alone. They didn’t specify how long Aubrey would be in there. There’s a row of chairs lining the wall, but Duck feels like as soon as he sits down something else will come up. It’s still entirely possible that Mama doesn’t know what’s going on. Or Juno. Duck sighs and goes to sit down.

A few eternities later, Duck’s watch says it’s been seventeen minutes. Aubrey walks out of the ICU doors. 

“How’s he doing?” Duck asks again, standing up.

“They say he should go to sleep soon, so I figured I’d give you a couple minutes to talk to him. He’s, quote, ‘not taking questions’ right now, which like, sure, but he’s the one who did what he did,” Aubrey says.

“I figured,” Duck says, “Do you know where you’re going?”

“Back to the lodge, I’ll fill in Mama, I’m walking back to take the truck,” Aubrey says.

“Good luck with that,” Duck laughs tiredly. 

Aubrey makes some half-hearted finger gun gestures and walks out the door. Duck rolls his shoulders back and walks into the ICU. 

It’s empty, save for one clearly occupied bed at the far end with the curtains drawn. The hushed whispers are carrying across the room, but Duck can’t make out what they’re saying.

“Hey, uh, it’s me, Duck,” Duck says lamely.

“They sent the whole damn firing squad,” Ned says, his speech slurred.

“Hey Duck,” Barclay says.

“I’m sure you’ve been asked this too many times but how’re you doing?” Duck asks.

“Well, let’s see, I hit the Pizza Hut sign like a tennis ball and didn’t even bounce, so you tell me,” Ned gripes.

“Yeah, I’m— I wanna say I’m sorry, but I don’t know—”

“No, it was me who did it,” Ned says, “I guess I should say thank you for saving me and all that.”

“I didn’t really do much,” Duck admits.

“Great, then that’s one less life debt I gotta pay off,” Ned says.

“Have they said when you’re gonna be out of here?” Duck asks.

“Never!” Ned announces.

Barclay puts a stilling hand on Ned’s wrist. “They said probably midday tomorrow. He’s a ‘miracle case’ ‘cause he didn’t break anything unfixable from falling off the roof of the Pizza Hut.”

“I’d call my ribs unfixable,” Ned chimes in.

“They would be fixable if you sat still,” Barclay says pointedly. Ned quiets down.

“You think you get a settlement from Pizza Hut?” Duck asks.

“No, I already checked,” Ned says.

Duck raises an eyebrow. “And you still did it?”

“Yeah, well, no one else had a magic jetpack,” Ned sighs.

“I don’t think that makes it a good reason for doing that,” Duck says.

“You can’t bully me, I’m an old man in the hospital,” Ned says. He sounds like he’s starting to drift off.

Duck tries not to laugh. “Alright, well, I’m gonna go then. Do you need anything here, or…”

“I think he just needs to rest,” Barclay says.

“What about you?” Duck asks.

“I’m gonna stay with him, try and keep him from fighting the nurses,” Barclay says.

“Alright, good luck with that,” Duck laughs, “Call me if you need help getting home.”

“Will do,” Barclay says, “See ya.”

“Bye.” 

Duck makes the long trek back to the parking lot. It’s faster and more resolute than the walk in by far. His Forest Service-branded truck sticks out against the handful of small cars. Duck gets into the driver’s seat and forcibly dissociates his way home.

~~☁~~

The next morning, Duck wakes up an hour later than usual. Memories of last night’s catastrophe fill themselves in backwards while he crumples out of bed. By the time he’s out of the shower, he’s remembered all the way back to his talk with Minerva.

Duck is real glad he doesn’t have to go in to work today.

Time passes in short bursts. It’s been 10:05 for ten minutes now, but apparently eating breakfast took Duck an hour. Toaster is asleep next to Duck, and then she’s gone. And then she’s back again, begging for food, and then she’s under the coffee table. That might just be regular cat speed.

The problem is Duck doesn’t know what he’s supposed to be doing. This is the first time in a long time that anyone has been hospitalized during a hunt, and with a much smaller crew. They can’t really track the lightning worm, so they just have to wait for it to show up again somewhere and hope they have enough arcane firepower to get it under control.

Duck thinks back on what Indrid said. They wouldn’t get it in time. It’s been about two days already, and they’re no closer to killing the worm than they started. Sure, they had two people who could reliably contain it, but then what? Take it to the edge of the radius and disintegrate it? What if that didn’t work?

Then Duck remembers what Minerva said. The light figures inside all these monsters could be planning a straight-up invasion of Earth. If that’s true, this thing would be a good place to start. A lot of life on Earth relies on electricity. Should Duck tell the Pine Guard about that? Probably, right? Should he wait for Ned to get better? Did they have that kind of time?

Duck has to call Juno.

“Howdy,” Juno greets.

“Hey, did you hear about what happened to Ned?” Duck asks.

“The telephone version,” Juno says.

“Okay, well, there’s more bad news, and I don’t know what to do with it,” Duck says.

“Is Indrid slinging more bullshit?” Juno asks.

“Yeah but that’s not everything. I talked to Minerva last night and she told me some real bad things,” Duck says.

Juno sighs into the phone. “Why’s it always you?”

“Fuckin’— I wish it wasn’t,” Duck says.

“I know. I’ll be over soon,” Juno says.

“Tell Sarah I said hi,” Duck says.

“Alright,” Juno says, hanging up.

Sure enough, Juno shows up at the door in less than 20 minutes. 

“Do you have snacks?” Juno asks, peeling off her coat. “There’s no more snacks in my house.”

“Uh…” Duck fishes through the cabinets. “I have Cheez-its.”

“Hand ‘em over.” Juno takes the box and goes over to the couch.

Duck breathes in. “Okay, so—”

“Sarah thinks we’re dating.”

Duck exhales, totally thrown off. “What?”

“Or at least, she did, I told her we’re not, but the other half of that sentence would be me telling her that actually, I’m in love with her, so I’m not sure how convinced she is,” Juno says.

“But why would she think that— the thing that she did?” Duck frowns.

“Well, y’know, we’re still close, and there’s not usually such a high concentration of gay people per graduating class,” Juno shrugs.

“But we don’t live together, it’s not like Percy is my kid,” Duck says.

“She kinda is,” Juno admits.

“Right but not legally,” Duck says, “I just— that is the last, I guess problem I expected or needed to come up right now.”

“You’d think all the drama would quit after high school,” Juno nods.

“For real.” Duck walks over to the couch. “So can I say my really fucked up stuff now?”

“Yeah, I just wanted to get that out of the way beforehand,” Juno says.

Duck nods. “Sure. Okay, so, Ned is in the hospital because he used his jetpack to try and pour sand on the lightning worm which was inside the big Pizza Hut sign. Long story short, he hit the sign and fell, Aubrey used wind magic to keep him from totally chomping concrete, Indrid tried to teach Aubrey how to contain the worm with magic but it got away because it’s getting more powerful and you wanna know why that is?”

“Why’s that?” Juno replies.

“Minerva told me last night, the light beings are coming from her sister planet! She thought everyone on that side was dead but then they started showing up on Earth ‘cause it turned out, they transcended their physical forms to avoid the plague and now they can space travel good! And they’re gonna invade Earth probably! So Minerva is coming here, she’s taking off probably tonight after I meet with her,” Duck explains.

“What the fuck,” is all Juno says.

“I know that’s a lot, and not even all of it,” Duck says.

“I just— the Ned thing I can grasp, because Ned’s a theatric dumbass. The light figure thing is fucked up but believable. My worry is— Minerva’s coming here?”

“What part of the incorporeal beings invading Earth wasn’t worrying?” Duck asks.

“Oh no it’s wack for sure, but it’s in line with what we know and we can’t do shit about it,” Juno says.

“Alright, fair enough. But yeah, Minerva says she has a spacecraft and she’s gonna come here, and my powers are probably gonna be weakened if not gone while she does that,” Duck says.

“Oh good, great,” Juno says.

“Congratulations! You get to be the chosen one now!” Duck says.

“No, fuck off, a latent connection to the celestial plane doesn’t give me super strength or whatever,” Juno argues.

“Have you checked?” Duck asks. He can feel them both spiralling.

“Of course I’ve checked, all that happens is I get real good at seeing magic,” Juno says.

“Well, that might be the advantage we need,” Duck points out.

Juno sits back. “Maybe.”

“I should tell everyone about this, right?” Duck checks.

“Yeah. What was the— you said it gets worse,” Juno replies.

“Oh, fuck, right, yeah. Indrid says we’re not gonna be able to kill the worm before the barrier starts expanding,” Duck says.

“Oh cool! Good! Great! Nice!” Juno says.

“I mean I don’t know for sure he’s right but I have no proof otherwise,” Duck says.

“Right,” Juno sighs.

“So what… plan? What do we do, what do I do?” Duck asks.

“I think wait until Ned is out of the hospital, we can meet up at the Cryptonomica and discuss strategy or something,” Juno says.

“Do I call Indrid? Do I invite him?” Duck questions.

“He seemed pretty adamant about staying inside, so maybe not, unless you can get him on speakerphone,” Juno says.

“Yeah, that would work,” Duck says. He knows Indrid won’t like it, but Indrid has made the point that their team isn’t enough.

It’s quiet now. The mania has dissipated and Duck and Juno are just ruminating in the reality of their situation.

“Can I stay here for a bit?” Juno asks after a minute.

“Yeah, of course,” Duck says.

“I can’t actually, Percy’s got a thing, I have to take her,” Juno says. She makes no move to get off the couch.

“When?”

“Later. Plus I don’t wanna leave her alone with Sarah.”

“Y’think they’re plotting against you?”

Juno laughs. “That would be the best possible outcome.”

“It would be very straight-to-DVD family movie,” Duck says.

“Now come on Duck, don’t say things like that,” Juno sighs.

“Her window is fixed,” Duck remembers.

“As of…”

“Yesterday afternoon. I woulda told you before, but I got caught up in the Minerva and Indrid and Pizza Hut stuff,” Duck says.

“Sarah and I spent a long time at the cafe,” Juno says. Duck knows it’s not really a subject change.

“How’d that go?” Duck asks.

“Well, I told you what she thought,” Juno says, “I didn’t— obviously I didn’t tell her how I feel, but… it was nice to just talk to her again.”

“What are you gonna do now?” Duck asks.

“Oh, you know. I’ll drive her back over here, promise to keep in touch, freak out instead of answering her calls, think about proposing when I see her in the produce aisle, die alone at 83 because I recklessly decided I could still climb trees, she shows up at my funeral like ‘I should have talked to Juno more’. I’ll do something like that, probably,” Juno says.

“That’s not how it’ll go and you know it.”

“I don’t know, what, am I gonna ask her out? On a  _ date _ ? We’re in our forties, Duck, that’s serious business. It’s not like we can just grab some cold ones and hang out at the skate park after hours,” Juno says.

“Who says you can’t? Well, besides the cops, but they can’t stop you,” Duck replies.

Juno looks like she’s thinking now. “I mean… maybe for old time’s sake.”

“Yeah, ask her! Worst case scenario she says no and you can try asking her on a fancy dinner date or whatever,” Duck says.

“Oh no, if she says no I’m quitting my job and moving to Brazil,” Juno says.

Duck snickers. “Please don’t, ‘cause then I’ll have to adopt Percy, and she’s mean to me.”

“That’s what you’d get for encouraging me!” Juno replies. She’s smiling again, which Duck counts as a win.

“I’m sorry for enabling you to live your truth,” Duck says mock-apologetically.

They sit in silence for a little bit after that. Duck knows that Juno just needs quiet, especially after having an unplanned guest that she’s in love with. Juno digs into the box of Cheez-its that she requested. She munches introspectively for a little while. It’s nice, relaxing almost, and certainly the most peaceful Duck has felt since the lightning worm showed up. 

Eventually though, Juno does get up. “I need to go for real now.” 

“Alright,” Duck says, standing up. “Do you want me to come pick up Sarah, or…”

“Nah, I’ll just— I wanna talk to her first,” Juno says.

“Alright.” Duck opens the door for Juno.

“See ya later,” Juno says.

“Take care.” Duck shuts the door.

He sighs. A small but determined part of him wishes that Juno’s personal life was the hardest problem they were facing right now. What would that be like? Working a regular punch-clock job, where the most life-threatening thing he faced was the regular hazards of driving on the icy winter roads. No magic, no divine responsibility. No superpowers, sure, but Duck is getting to a point where he would trade all of that for peace of mind. 

He squashes that thought down. He doesn’t have time or the emotional stability to dream about that kind of stuff.

“Duck Newton!”

Duck jumps. “What are you doing here?”

“I do not have much time,” Minerva says, “I am using a different frequency that burns a higher amount of energy in order to reach you at this time of day.”

“Alright, well, what’s going on?” Duck asks.

Minerva’s form shifts to a darker blue, and then back to the original shade. “As you know, I will be attempting a voyage to your Earth soon. I want to let you know as much as I can about the process. I will be in a small craft, as obviously I will be the only one on board, and it may take anywhere between two days and a month to make it to where you are.”

“Oh jeez, that’s… I mean, as long as you make it,” Duck says, and immediately regrets.

“That is another thing. There is a— a very real possibility that I will not make it,” Minerva says.

“Then are you sure you should go?” Duck asks.

Minerva looks down. “It’s too late to turn back now. There’s nothing left for me on this planet, and there’s nothing I can do here to help you fight off any invading forces. I… I refuse to make the same mistake twice. I will not live in isolation only to outlive everyone I care about. Not again.”

“Minerva…”

“Promise me, Duck, promise that you will remain strong, and regardless of whether I complete the journey, you will continue to fight for your world,” Minerva says, her tone suddenly dark.

“Minerva, you—”

“Duck Newton.”

Duck shuts up.

“Give me your oath, that no matter what happens, you will survive me as a protector of your people.”

Duck sets his jaw. This feels like a really weighted promise. And it’s coming on the heels of his little daydream lapse in resolve. It almost feels like fate is testing him.

“I promise.”

Minerva seems satisfied with that. “Alright. I must talk with Leo before I launch, so… I suppose that this is goodbye, for now.”

Duck might start crying. “Just for now.”

Minerva seems to smile. “You will do well even when I am gone, Duck Newton. It was never me who made you strong.”

“I don’t know that that’s true,” Duck’s voice cracks.

“I taught you and gave you a blade, yes, but you have the strength of heart to take that mastery against those who would destroy you,” Minerva says. 

“I never would have done it without you,” Duck says, his eyes getting blurry.

Minerva’s spectral hands twitch. “You have been like a child to me, Duck. And I have watched you grow up into more than a warrior. Where I only destroyed, you have learned to nurture the ashes. I am so, so proud of you, Duck Newton. And you already understand this, but… it is not the parent who defines their child, but the child will define the parent. And if I am defined by even a fraction of what you’ve done, then I have done my job well.”

Duck is crying. “Fuck— Minerva, I— I love you.”

“I love you too, Duck.” Minerva’s projected form wraps her arms around Duck.

“Please be safe,” Duck sniffles.

“I will do my best,” Minerva says. Her projection is starting to flicker. “See you soon, Duck Newton.”

“Goodbye Minerva,” Duck replies.

She blinks out of Duck’s vision. 

Duck stands there and cries a little bit longer. He’s worried about Minerva, he’s worried about Ned, hell, he’s still worried about Indrid. The abomination has been around less than three full days and things are only getting dicier. Duck might not even have access to his powers for much longer. They have nothing.

Once he’s done catharsizing, Duck makes himself some food. It’s some time of day, probably. The clock says 1:33. Duck feels like he’s already been awake twelve hours. He eats his food without even thinking about it. A nap can’t hurt. The phone will wake him up if something happens. Duck resignedly goes back to bed.

~~☁~~

There is a sound coming from somewhere and Duck is going to crush whatever is making it with his bare hands.

Needles of sunlight. Blankets sticky with sweat. Hair that desperately needs to be trimmed and re-dyed.

“What the fuck,” Duck murmurs to himself. He untangles himself from the mass of blankets. “Eight?”

That’s what the clock says. Eight in the morning, if the sunlight coming through Duck’s window between the curtains is anything to go by. Duck smacks the alarm clock so it stops beeping. His stomach rumbles, but he feels too woozy to get up and eat.

Honestly Duck feels like shit in general. It’s more than the usual winter blues; his head is swimming and all his muscles ache. Did he run a marathon in his sleep? Did someone throw him down the stairs? 

Then it hits him. His powers are waning, just like Minerva said. That doesn’t bode well for literally anything, though. Duck sighs and gets up.

His morning routine takes twice as long as it normally does. He nearly slips and busts his ass in the shower, and when he gets out, he’s extremely cold. He gets dressed fast, but his clothes have a weight to them that they didn’t before. As he’s combing his hair, he sees that it’s still pink around his face, but it’s turning grey around his ears.

Then when Duck actually looks into the mirror, he sees that his eyes are now almost the same shade of brown. It’s been so long since that was the case that it scares him. That’s probably fine, right? His eye was the most concentrated display of his connection with Minerva, so it’s normal that it wouldn’t be bright turquoise now that the connection is on pause. Right?

Duck can’t think about it. He can’t think, period. His head is pounding, his teeth hurt, and he’s pretty sure he has a fever. He turns on the coffee to start brewing as he stumbles through the kitchen. In the meantime he needs water. 

Toaster rubs on his legs. Duck coughs out a laugh and tries to get her some food. His fingers feel like they’re tied together. He manages it after a minute of struggling, but it worries him. Maybe he should ask Leo. 

Duck’s stomach lurches. Maybe later then.

He puts some jam on some toast over the course of about ten minutes, and then the coffee is ready. Duck sits down at the kitchen table with his food. Then he runs to the bathroom to throw up.

Ten minutes later, he tries again. This time he manages some coffee, but soon it’s back to leaning over the rim of the toilet.

Duck tries a couple more rounds of this until someone knocks on his door.

“Come in,” Duck says. His voice is hoarse and strained.

The door opens, and it’s Leo. “Hey, I heard some noises over here, is everything alright?”

Leo doesn’t look so good either. He’s leaning heavily on the doorframe, and Duck notices the heavy bags under his eyes.

“Everything is cool, here,” Duck answers eventually.

“You too, huh?” Leo says, kicking his leg haphazardly to keep Toaster from running out.

“Uh-huh.” Duck coughs. “I— is this supposed to happen?”

“I dunno,” Leo admits, “I think it’ll get better over time, but I don’t think we were meant to lose everything all at once like this.”

“I slept from like 1:30 yesterday until 8 this morning.”

“Oh, damn.”

“I might go and sleep some more.”

“That might be a good idea,” Leo nods, “The power in my store is still out, so I’m having Brady put stuff into the emergency freezer room, but I’m not going over there.”

“The phone will make— make sounds if we gotta go do something,” Duck says.

“Yeah.” Leo looks a little disoriented. “Well, I’m glad you’re okay, or at least as okay as we can be right now. I’m gonna go pass out now.”

“Have fun.” 

The door shuts, making a loud sound that shouldn’t hurt Duck as much as it does. He goes back to attempting to eat his breakfast.

This goes on for a couple hours. He starts to feel better as it gets into the afternoon. No calls come from anyone, which is almost concerning. But Duck has more pressing issues right now than catastrophes that aren’t happening. Maybe the abomination is taking it easy on him. Either way, Duck needs the time to stop slamming his toes into the corner of the couch.

When the phone finally does ring, Duck feels almost normal. Or at least, more of a “light cold” than a “never had a flu shot” feeling. He looked in the mirror, and his eye is sitting at a hazel green color. He also tried testing his strength with botany textbooks, and he’s made it up to four per hand.

Duck picks up the phone. “This is Ranger Duck Newton.”

“Hey Duck,” Indrid greets.

“Indrid, hi, what’s going on?” Duck asks. On the one hand, he wants to hear from Indrid, but on the other, he doesn’t want to hear more bad news or a new catastrophe to stop.

“Can you come over? We need to talk,” Indrid says.

“Um,” Duck can see half of his reflection in the bathroom mirror. “Yeah, I guess. Now?”

“Soon, it’s not super pressing. Not this time,” Indrid says.

“Alright, well, I’ll be over soon then,” Duck says.

“See you then, Duck.” Click.

Ugh. Duck doesn’t really feel like going out at all. It’s probably important, because it’s Indrid, but Duck really does not need Indrid to see him like this. Omniscience or not, this wasn’t a moment in Duck’s life that he needed anyone to see. Especially not the psychic magician that’s helping them with the worst thing they’ve faced so far.

Duck still gets dressed. He still puts on his boots and his jacket and grabs his keys from the bowl and walks down to the parking lot. Powers or not, he’s got a job to do. Whether Indrid is a part of that is questionable, but Duck cannot be bothered to make logic of anything right now. He’s just doing whatever people tell him to do.

The door to Indrid’s trailer opens before Duck can knock. He isn’t even fazed. He steps inside.

“What’s up? I mean, why am I here?” Duck greets.

“I wanted to talk to you about something that I don’t think you want the others to hear,” Indrid says.

“Okay, well, that was the most ominous way you coulda put that,” Duck replies.

“First of all— oh, you look awful. Are you okay?” Indrid asks. The switch from flippant fortune-telling to genuine concern makes Duck dizzy.

“Yeah, no, I’m good, just, y’know, uh, winter?” Duck supplies.

“Okay, well, my first concern is that your hair is getting out of control. I understand you’ve been busy, but really. Have you been eating too much shrimp or something?” Indrid says.

“Yeah, totally,” Duck says dryly. He can do the banter thing easy. “Are you gonna fix it for me or did you have an actual concern?”

“I have something else,” Indrid says vaguely. Duck raises an eyebrow. “You’re expecting a visitor.”

“What is this, a tarot reading?” Duck avoids the topic. He tries not to think about Minerva.

Indrid steps closer to Duck, tilting his head slightly. 

Duck holds perfectly still, ready to bolt if he has to. Indrid looks suprisingly benign in whatever this stance and gesture is. 

After a tense moment of mutual staring, Indrid reaches deftly to tuck Duck’s hair behind his left ear, and pulls his hand back to reveal the Fool card. “I’ll make it one if you’re not careful.”

Duck is stunned. He has literally zero ideas how to respond to that. There’s a lot of conflicting emotions stuck in his throat, and he can’t even begin to unpack them. He feels very hot, but he’s not sure he should take his coat off. His fever must be back, yeah, that must be it. Indrid is standing patiently in front of him.

Finally, Duck stammers out, “Explain— tell me what you’re asking.”

“Well, I’m asking what your plan is for when they arrive,” Indrid says.

“What do you know?” Duck asks cautiously.

“I know you’re awaiting the arrival of someone who is coming from another planet via space travel. I have a general idea of where the craft will land, quite noticeably might I add, and of the person who will be on board,” Indrid says.

“So why— why does it matter to you?” Duck asks. He’s been holding tight to his Chosen secrets for a long time; it’s almost disorienting to hear someone else say things only he should know. Especially considering the timing.

“I’m bored with the electric worm, there’s not really anything else I can do for you in that regard. But I might as well help you _ not _ reveal the existence of aliens while I’m here,” Indrid says.

“…Alright,” Duck replies, “Well, you honestly know more than I did. I don’t even know when exactly M— when the craft will get here.”

“I’d say about a week,” Indrid says.

A wave of relief rushes through Duck. Surely if Indrid is so worried about this, it means Minerva is actually going to get here. It makes more problems, sure, but Duck is just glad there’s hope.

“The abomination should be gone by then,” Duck says once he remembers he’s in a conversation. Indrid doesn’t look so sure, and Duck remembers their conversation from a couple nights ago. “Where’s sh— it gonna land?”

“By the telescope,” Indrid says simply.

Duck runs a hand through his hair. “Fucking— really? Shit. How am I gonna— huh. Am I really gonna be able to cover that up?”

“With my help, it won’t be so bad,” Indrid says.

“But, like, why are you helping me?” Duck asks. 

“I told you, I’m bored,” Indrid says.

“You’re not gonna try anything more convincing?” Duck raises an eyebrow.

“You’re already convinced, I don’t need to waste your time with a slideshow and a model,” Indrid shrugs.

“Do I have to spill the beans on the whole situation though? Or will you still help me without that?” Duck asks.

“I… I don’t need the whole story. Maybe just a general description of the spacecraft and the person, if you have that kind of information,” Indrid says.

“I got no clue, really,” Duck huffs out a laugh, “I mean, I know the person who’s coming here is a real buff lady with a sword, but other than that I got nothing.”

“That’s better than nothing,” Indrid says. He looks over at his wall of drawings. “Oh, and you’re going to have another, sooner and less expected visitor.”

“What— like are you gonna show up at my apartment?” Duck asks.

“No, if I were going to do that I would just tell you,” Indrid says.

“Well I dunno, you were being all cryptic about what you wanted from me when I got here. I don’t know your agenda,” Duck says. Then, after a couple seconds, he adds, “I mean, if you wanted to come over some time, you could.”

Indrid takes even more seconds to respond to that. “Thank you, Duck, I’ll… I’ll keep that in mind.”

The bundle of emotions Duck shoved down earlier is starting to untangle. “Yeah, no problem.”

“You should go, it’s getting late,” Indrid says.

“Yeah.” Duck glances at his watch. It’s just past eight. He goes back toward the door.

“I’ll call you,” Indrid says, opening the door for him. The combination of words and gesture there feels like a punch to Duck’s gut.

“Alright,” Duck breathes out, “See ya soon Indrid, take care.”

“Bye,” Indrid waves.

Duck gets back in the car, coughing from the cold. Things might work out a little bit.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Duck gets yelled at.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is a shorter chapter, i just needed to fill out some subplots b4 we get back into the big stuff. and i needed duck to be less invincible. you'll understand why in time.

Duck’s semi-optimistic attitude lasts him until he gets to his own front door.

“You!” Ned pushes himself up from his crouching lean against Duck’s doorframe. He’s clearly high on painkillers.

“Ned, what are you—”

“We’re gonna fight. I am going to fight you, nay, defeat you!”

“Ned, buddy, sit down, you’re gonna hurt yourself—”

“I am unhurtable!” Ned declares.

“Alright.” Duck grabs Ned under the arms, still operating on the muscle memory of super strength.

Now either Duck is really losing his powers, or Ned is really trying to weigh against Duck as much as possible. Duck hopes for the latter and drags Ned kicking and screaming inside the apartment. Toaster stands frozen in the hallway.

“That’s not fair!” Ned stumbles, righting himself with help from the end table. Toaster sprints into Duck’s room to hide.

“We’re not fighting,” Duck says.

“I want to. A duel.” Ned tries to push himself up from the table but it doesn’t work.

Duck reaches out a hand to steady him. “A duel?”

Ned swats Duck’s hand away.“I fought a Pizza Hut, I can take you easily.”

“Ned, you lost that fight.”

Ned looks like he’s seriously thinking that over. Then, as if he just solved a really difficult math problem, he says, “You’re smaller than a Pizza Hut.”

Duck manages to land a hand on Ned’s shoulder. “That I am, but I’m still not gonna fight you.”

Ned tries to shrug off the hand. “Yes you are!” 

“Why? Why are we even fighting?”

“For Barclay’s affections.”

Duck laughs. Just barks out a guffaw. He can’t believe this. Here Duck is, worrying about the end of the world and losing the closest thing he has to a mom. He’s even starting to unpack his feelings surrounding Indrid, who has been pushing Duck further than anyone else and yet Duck can’t stop thinking about him. And now he’s here getting accused of yet another completely buckwild affair. Duck feels like he’s living in a damn soap opera.

“What the fuck are you talking about, man?” Duck asks.

“You can’t take him from me,” Ned says. He sounds a little more downtrodden about it than Duck was expecting.

Duck uses his hand on Ned’s shoulder to redirect him to the couch. “I don’t— first of all, I’m not, second, I don’t want to. Barclay’s nice but we’re just friends, and I guarantee you neither of us want otherwise,” Duck says.

“Liar!” Ned insists.

“Ned, when have I ever been able to lie to you?” Duck asks tiredly.

That slows Ned down. He flops down onto the couch. “It could have been a long-running ruse.”

“Ned, listen. You know I’m no god at ruses.” Duck sits down next to Ned, outside of swatting distance but still close. “I can’t speak for Barclay, but I think he really likes you. I think you’d be better off showing up at his door than mine, since he’s the one you’re after.”

“But then he would know,” Ned says. He sounds like he’s been through this conversation a thousand times.

“Look, I know it’s rough—”

“You don’t understand! I’m new here, you’ve been around for years! And I ruined it, way back when we first met, I… I betrayed him!” Ned says. He’s losing steam.

“You didn’t betray him. If anything, Kirby did, but still not even. And you’re already at least as close to him as I am, and it took me years to get there. Barclay doesn’t open up to most folks. I— I know for a fact, Ned, that he likes you. I don’t know the full extent of it but I know that if you just talked to him he’d be more than happy to give you a shot,” Duck says.

Ned makes a few attempts at words, but he gives up.

“I get it, feelings are hard and sincerity is a bitch, but stacking yourself on painkillers and coming to fight me isn’t gonna help anyone,” Duck says.

Ned is silent. He’s staring contemplatively at the rug under the coffee table. Duck is acutely aware of how long it’s been since he last vacuumed.

Suddenly, Ned lets out a snore.

Duck laughs. “Alright. Guess that answers that.”

He stands up and backs away from the couch. He has to call Kirby, at least to let him know where Ned is. Duck doesn’t really want Ned to sleep on his couch like this, but he knows he might not have a choice.

Kirby picks up the phone after a few rings. “Hello?”

Duck clears his throat. “Hey, Kirby, it’s Duck, Ned is at my place right now, uh, do you… did you know that?”

“Uh, no, what? How’d he— jesus christ, Ned, he fuckin’— do you need me to come get him?” Kirby replies.

“I mean, he can stay for now, he fell asleep on the couch a minute ago, so I think it might be better to just, y’know, leave him to it, let him rest,” Duck says.

“Yeah. He was on a ton of painkillers, I’m surprised he made it there,” Kirby says.

“I figured. They’ll be worn off by morning though, so I’ll send him back then,” Duck says.

“I’ll keep an eye out,” Kirby agrees.

“Thanks,” Duck says. He looks over at Ned, who at some point managed to lie down on the couch (with his shoes on, to Duck’s instinctive disgust). “And uh, do you… do you know where Barclay is? Like— when did he leave Ned the other day, I guess is what I’m asking.” 

“Uh… he stayed here for a good while, but like, Ned kept telling to leave and stop worrying so eventually, like maybe seven-ish, ‘cause you know he made Ned food. But then he called to check up on him today,” Kirby says.

Duck sighs. “Okay. Yeah. I mean— you see them more than I do.”

“Right,” Kirby says.

“Is he— is Ned… has he ever been like this before?”

“Well what’d he do? Like why’s he at your apartment? I’m assuming he did something,” Kirby asks.

“He wanted to challenge me to a duel for Barclay’s affections,” Duck explains.

“Oh my god,” Kirby laughs. Duck is glad that that’s the correct reaction. “He’s never done that before, to my knowledge, but I’ve only known him so long.”

“So he’s… I dunno. I told him to just talk to Barclay, but…”

“He’s not gonna do that.”

“I know.” Duck looks at Ned one more time. “Well, I just wanted to let you know where he was, have a good rest of your night.”

“You too,” Kirby says, before hanging up.

Duck takes a deep breath. A wave of nausea hits him. He’s had a long day, and it’s past nine. The monster has been quiet for almost two days now, Duck isn’t worried about it striking while he sleeps. He’s going to bed.

~~⛈~~

It takes about a half hour of Duck being awake the next morning before he remembers that someone else is there. 

He wakes up at his usual time, takes a shower, and puts on fresh pajamas. He doesn’t have anything to do today (barring another monster attack) so he’s not going to bother with clothes. His power-loss flu is definitely still present, and he ends up using his inhaler for the first time in years. Then he gets to work on breakfast, turning on the coffee and the stove. He even gives Toaster her wet food.

Then someone in the living room clears their throat.

Duck jumps and turns around. “Hey, Ned.”

“Am I that ugly?” Ned asks, his usual bravado tarnished with sleep.

“Just, y’know, didn’t know if you were awake,” Duck says.

“It’s hard not to be, with your moving performance in the shower,” Ned says grumpily.

Duck tries to hold his ground against the mortification that’s gripping his guts. “Listen, I didn’t expect to have anyone come over last night, and I still have things to do.”

“That’s why you’re wearing a trans pride mountain shirt and pajama pants,” Ned points out.

“I’m working from home,” Duck retorts.

“Well don’t let me get in your way, I only broke my ribs to save you all,” Ned says.

“Ned, you came over last night to fight me over a problem you made up,” Duck says.

“And you didn’t even have the decency to drive me back home,” Ned says.

“You know you woulda killed me if I tried to drive your car,” Duck says, “I did call Kirby though.”

“So I should get back to the Cryptonomica soon?” Ned says.

“I mean, probably.”

“Fine.”

Ned walks into the kitchen and takes a mug off the drying mat. He pours coffee into it, but that doesn’t seem like enough. He glares into the mug, goes over to the freezer and gets some ice cubes, plunks them into the scalding hot coffee, and then downs the lukewarm mixture with a grimace.

Duck just stands there in confusion and horror. “Why?”

Ned turns his glare to him. “Because.”

He sets the mug down, puts on his shoes (which were on opposite ends of the living room) and walks out the door with an indignant huff.

Well. That solved that, at least. Duck knows that Ned is probably just crabby from the pain, but that doesn’t mean he was prepared for any of that.

Regardless, he goes on with his day. Normally, Duck would work on a model ship or other woodworking craft to relieve stress, but his hands are too shaky right now. Instead he gets to work cleaning his apartment from the detritus of the past couple days. Ned’s mug is washed out, the crumbs from Juno’s cheez-it crisis are vacuumed, his bathroom is mopped clean of blood and vomit. The only thing left is to take out the trash.

As Duck returns from this last task, he comes face to face with Sarah.

“Hey, how’s it going?” Duck greets awkwardly.

“I’m going back to my apartment finally,” Sarah replies.

“That’s good,” Duck says. 

“Thanks for getting the window fixed,” Sarah says. Her expression makes it clear she still blames him for breaking it in the first place.

“Of course,” Duck says, “Is there anything else I can do to help?”

“I think I’m good, actually,” Sarah says.

Duck isn’t sure if it’s just his flu, or if this conversation is actually hurting him. “Alright, well, lemme know if you need anything.”

“For sure. See you around,” Sarah says. She goes into her apartment and shuts the door quickly.

Duck shuts himself into his own apartment. What just happened? Does Sarah actually hate him? Duck understands why she would think he broke the window. Realistically, it’s the best explanation to give her. But he got it fixed within a week, and he is trying to be nice to her. Maybe her working at the telescope has changed how chill she is.

Almost all of Duck’s afternoon is taken up with trying to repress that interaction. Maybe Sarah just had a bad day. He sure is having one, anyway. Maybe he should ask Juno about it. But also, Juno can never know that her best friend and the love of her life just can’t get along anymore. No, Duck will just deal with it. Everyone needs an enemy. If that’s who Sarah needs him to be, then he can do that. He’ll just leave her alone. Everything will be fine.

This overthinking is brought to a halt when someone knocks on Duck’s door. Duck frowns. He hopes it’s not Sarah. He goes over and opens the door.

Indrid immediately rushes into Duck’s apartment without any regard for greetings or niceties. Definitely not Sarah, then. Indrid keeps his layers and boots on, although he didn’t track any snow or mud in.

“We need to talk about covering up for your friend,” Indrid announces as soon as Duck shuts the door.

“Alright, I got literally no information on that, so just tell me what you want me to do,” Duck says, totally not ready for this line of thought. “Do you— I mean, you can settle in, if you want, I can get you a drink or something.”

“You wouldn’t happen to have eggnog, would you?” Indrid asks.

“I think I got a carton in the fridge,” Duck says. He goes over to check. “You can keep talking.”

“In five days, your friend’s spacecraft will land just outside the Green Bank Radio Telescope. My guess is they’re using the radio signals as a kind of homing signal to get to Earth, which takes longer but is easier to do than trying to drive a UFO through the little stone archway,” Indrid says. He sits down at the kitchen table.

“Right,” Duck says, all of this information being very new to him. He hands Indrid a glass of eggnog.

Indrid takes the glass with a grateful nod. “In my estimations, your friend won’t crash-land, but there will still be, y’know, kind of a ruckus, because atmospheric compression and propulsion engines and that sort of thing.”

“Right,” Duck says, “So, what is our angle here? Do we just try and get her and run before the FBI shows up, or like, play it off as a real strange little traffic mishap, or..?”

“Probably the former, simply because we don’t have any other options,” Indrid says, taking a long drink of his eggnog. “Also, your vehicle will be too recognizable, so either we need another car or I can do some temporary artificing and glamors to disguise the car.”

Duck thinks about it. Technically, the truck is expected to endure some wear and tear in the line of monster hunting. However, Duck is pretty sure the insurance folks wouldn’t appreciate ‘I let a magician turn my truck into a sports car to better escape the cops’ as a claim. Whatever. The world is probably going to end soon anyway. It’s not like the people who would tell him off for breaking his car are doing anything about that.

“Disguising the car will be easier. We should take it to a second location to do that though, right? ‘Cause if people see me leave my apartment in a different car they’ll know something’s up, let alone if some stranger is doing magic tricks on it,” Duck says.

“Yes, exactly,” Indrid nods. He takes another drink of eggnog. “The real challenge will be getting into the telescope. Obviously we can’t use our real identities at any point during this process. I was going to suggest that I do a sort of sedation spell on the security guards, but you have a strong moral compass so I probably shouldn’t have mentioned that now.”

“Can you really do magic all willy-nilly like that?” Duck asks.

“Why wouldn’t I be able to?” Indrid frowns.

“Well, I mean, even Aubrey doesn’t use like,  _ magic _ magic that much. Especially ‘cause the crystal is fading,” Duck says.

Indrid looks a little perplexed by that. He looks down into his eggnog silently. 

Duck wonders if what he said was insulting. “I’m sorry, it’s none of my business—”

“No, you’re right to wonder. Truth be told, I’ve been in the business of doing magic for about, hm, three and a half centuries? And I’m not the oldest arcane academic, not by far, but that is enough time that it becomes ingrained in— well, not everyday life, I’m not just magicking everything around me, that would be irresponsible. But y’know, it’s a part of who I am, it factors into my decision-making. Especially,” Indrid taps a heretofor-unseen pencil against the side of his glasses, “My future sight, which I cannot turn off.”

“That must kinda suck,” Duck says.

Indrid laughs. “You might be the first person to understand that without me having to explain it.”

“Well, I mean, the future’s looking pretty grim right now,” Duck shrugs.

“Right, and despite what people try to tell me, no amount of foresight could truly prepare me for the act of conversation. I will continue to speak like a ransom note, regardless of how I know I should say things,” Indrid says.

“I feel that,” Duck says, “I mean listen, as long as I can understand what you’re trying to communicate, I don’t care how you say it.”

Indrid smiles. “That’s helpful of you.”

“I’m a nice guy,” Duck shrugs sarcastically.

Indrid snickers. “Well, nice guy, you aren’t going to like what I have to say next.”

“What’s that?” Duck frowns.

“You will have to bring your sword on our mission,” Indrid says.

“What? Why?”

“Not to use on anyone, probably.”

“You’re not making it sound better,” Duck says.

“What I’m saying is, a glowing whip sword that, if I’m seeing correctly,  _ talks _ , will be a huge intimidation factor that will keep us from being immediately apprehended,” Indrid says.

“But I won’t have to hurt anyone, right?”

“Not lethally.”

“Yes or no, Indrid.”

“I don’t why it’s a big deal! No one’s going to die, except maybe us and your friend, if we don’t take this precaution.”

“I mean it’s kind of a big deal. Beacon ain’t a friendly sword, he’s literally bloodthirsty. You are assuming a lot more control over the situation than we’re gonna have,” Duck explains.

“You can’t control your sword?” Indrid asks, as if that is the absurd part of this conversation.

“It’s fuckin’ sentient! I can only do so much!” Duck exclaims, “And he’s gonna be extra pissed ‘cause it’s been a long time since the last monster hunt and there’s nothing that a metal-ass sword can do against a damn lightning worm.”

Indrid looks both unimpressed and intrigued at the same time. Duck is acutely aware of how riled up he is. This happens every time he talks to Indrid, regardless of Indrid’s tone. Is Duck the problem?

“I’m interested in what a metal-ass sword is,” Indrid says after a minute.

“I mean, y’know. A sword with an ass,” Duck says, for some ungodly reason.

“Your sword has an ass?”

“...No.”

“That’s probably for the best.”

They sit in a weird silence for another minute. It’s not uncomfortable; more like both of them don’t know if they should laugh.

“So, uh, I need a new car and a sword,” Duck lists on his fingers, “Anything else before I go to the store?”

Indrid snickers. “I’m guessing enough food to feed this new addition to your home, right?”

“Ah, yeah, probably,” Duck replies. 

Now that he’s thinking about it, he has no idea what Minerva eats. He would guess a lot of protein, but he also doesn’t imagine she had much fresh meat and produce on a collapsed planet. Maybe they could go together when she gets there. 

“Now, what I was saying about enterance strategy. I think you will be driving, so unless you get very good at lying very quickly, I’m going to do my thing,” Indrid says.

“The sleeper spell,” Duck says.

“Yes. That should get us in the gate. From there— Sarah works at the telescope, right? Oh, but that’s not going to work out— hmm, you really complicated this one,” Indrid says.

“What, did you want me to explain to her exactly what’s going on?” Duck replies, a little defensively.

“Not necessarily, but it would be nice to have an ally on the inside,” Indrid says.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Duck says. He will absolutely not be approaching Sarah again. 

Indrid seems to know that. “I mean, there is always the option of, you know, attacking anyone who comes for us. It’s not a particularly efficient strategy by any means, but it would work.”

“What? No. I told you, I’m not doing that,” Duck says.

“Ugh, you have so much strength of character. Don’t you ever get tired of being the hero?” Indrid asks.

“It’s not about being the hero, it’s about not killing innocent people,” Duck says.

“I didn’t say kill, I just said attack.”

“I’m not attacking anyone!”

“I didn’t even say you had to. It’s just a possibility that I need to you to be prepared for because I can only do so much at once. Now, if killing ends up being necessary—”

“No! Absolutely not! What the fuck is wrong with you?” Duck yells.

“What? Tell me how it’s different than murdering any of your monsters that you deal with,” Indrid says.

“Those things kill people! They kill people and destroy lives and— and I can’t believe you’re making me justify  _ not _ doing murder,” Duck says.

“Are they not people too, though? They’ve proven to be capable of complex thought recently, right? How do they measure up against humanity?” Indrid asks.

“That’s not what this is about,” Duck argues, “If a human was an active threat and had killed before, I would be… less hesitant. I’m not tryna be a vigilante, but if— like, it comes down to protecting people. The folks at the telescope are just doing their jobs. I don’t have the right to take that from them because of my personal schemes.”

“That’s a noble sentiment, but I think you and I both know this is an intergalactic issue. You can’t hatch a defense plan without breaking a few eggs,” Indrid says.

“Literally, Indrid, if you keep suggesting murder, don’t even fucking bother showing up, alright? I’m not gonna hurt innocent people,” Duck says.

Indrid huffs. “Your idea of the world is so  _ small _ , Duck. It’s not about the handful of innocent people we have to get through. It’s about Earth and Sylvain and two other planets too. Your ‘innocent people’ in your quaint little forest town is not the only thing at stake here.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Duck is on the brink of crying. “You think I’m doing this for my own peace of mind? I’m never gonna rest easy again, Indrid, I haven’t since I turned 18 years old. And I know you understand that kind of feeling. I am trying to keep as many people alive as I can, because it’s my fucking responsibility.”

“It’s not!” Indrid exclaims. “It’s not your responsibility alone! You can’t claim that much. There is more going on here than any one person can understand, let alone be responsible for.”

“I don’t see anyone else who knows what I know, alright? And I don’t wanna put folks who don’t have natural toughness in the line of fire,” Duck says, “I ain’t in this for fuckin’ glory or whatever. In fact, I’d live the rest of my days happy if no one ever talked to me about killing monsters again.”

“Then why do you do it?” Indrid asks. A simple question that Duck has been asking himself for years.

Duck sighs. The answer has been obvious, and selfish, the whole time. “I don’t— I mean— do you know how much guilt I would live under if I had these fuckin’ superpowers, and pretty clear instructions on how to help people with ‘em, and I never did anything?”

Indrid doesn’t respond to that. He’s still looking at Duck, presumably. It’s hard to tell with the glasses. Duck is just glad that no tears have started up yet.

After a while, Indrid speaks again, his tone measured even. “What I want you to understand, Duck, is that you are no longer shouldering this burden alone. Really, you never have been. But especially now. Like it or not, I will be coming with you to retrieve Minerva before the government can.”

With that, he gets up from the table and walks out the door. Duck doesn’t have time to form a reply.

Wait. Indrid said “Minerva” specifically. Duck had never told him her name. That was mildly suspicious, if not for the fact that Indrid probably just saw far enough for Minerva to introduce herself.

That made Duck think more. Minerva had warned Duck about Indrid multiple times. Did she know him? But how? Indrid isn’t like the light beings. He’s just psychic, and he can do magic. Granted, Duck doesn’t know a whole lot about magic, but Indrid’s casting seems to check out.

Duck sighs. This is five out of six interactions, as far fighting with Indrid goes. This time, though, Indrid didn’t sound triumphant or smug at the end. Duck really hopes that’s the ‘murder is bad’ point sinking in, if nothing else. There was really a moment where he thought he might seriously like Indrid. He’s glad that that didn’t have time to happen before Indrid pulled out the fact that he is down to kill innocent people.

Surely there has to be some kind of life experience that would make Indrid think like that. Duck doesn’t wish trauma on anyone, but there’s got to be something. Why is he trying to justify it? He doesn’t know Indrid. He hasn’t learned hardly anything about Indrid since the night they officially met. But there’s just something about him. Despite all the antagonizing and the murder and the flippancy, Duck  _ wants _ to know more.

What a fucking cliche. This whole Minerva business must really be getting to him.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's crunch time, and Minerva is on her way. Duck doesn't know what he's supposed to do, until he does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys, sorry this chapter's a week late, midterms and the like have been shredding me. but i'm real hype to post this chapter cuz its a doozy and it's gonna lead into a lot of fun things.

After Indrid left his apartment, Duck has been having a little bit of a crisis.

It isn’t just what Indrid said, or the uncertainty of Minerva’s situation. Well, it is partially that, but it’s also everything else. The monster has been out for five days, meaning they have only two days to stop it before its range starts expanding. If he’s doing the math right, it could be as far as the telescope in less than a week.

It’s so overwhelming that Duck can’t even bring himself to call a Pine Guard meeting. He should have, days ago, but he got caught up in Indrid’s planning. He wanted to ask Indrid to come to the meeting. It’s probably too late for that now. 

But Duck needs to talk to someone. Someone who actually knows things and is willing to tell him. Someone who knows what it’s like to be Chosen, too. Luckily for Duck, the only person who fits that bill lives in the same apartment building.

“Hey Duck, how are things?” Leo says as he opens the door.

“Hey, Leo, do you have a minute? I wanna talk about some stuff,” Duck asks.

Leo lets Duck inside. “Yeah, sure, what’s going on? I saw Indrid storm out of here a few minutes ago, is everything alright?”

“Yeah, well— no, actually, but not— it’s real complicated,” Duck says.

“Start from the beginning,” Leo says patiently.

“So, Minerva is coming here, right? Well, the first day she was, y’know, in limbo I guess, when our abilities were really gone, Indrid called me,” Duck explains, “He asked me to come over, and he told me, he knew about Minerva coming here. And he said— he said he wanted to help me bring her home, because he was bored and he knew it would cause a ruckus.”

“Bored? We got a goddamn lightning snake running around sapping electricity out of things, how is he bored?” Leo demands.

“I don’t fuckin’ know, he just said he couldn’t help us any more on that front. But like, as of today, he knew about Minerva by name, and she’s gonna be landing at the telescope, in five days,” Duck says.

“Shit,” Leo replies, “I mean, I hoped she would get here, but that’s gonna be hell to cover up.”

“Yeah, I— I agreed to let Indrid help me, because what else could I do? But he started saying I need to be prepared to fight civilians, and I— I got mad, right, because I don’t wanna involve them in this, let alone hurt them,” Duck says.

Leo looks pissed. “Yeah, right, what the hell.”

“Then Indrid got mad too and told me I shouldn’t be taking responsibility for all of this. Like, I get what he was saying, but also, we can’t fuckin’ murder people just to get what we want,” Duck says. “I guess I see now why Barclay doesn’t like the guy.”

“Yeah,” Leo says. “Tell you what, I’m gonna come with you to get Minerva. I mean, I’m Chosen too, I have more of a right than Indrid does.”

“That would be great, honestly,” Duck says, relieved. “I need someone to take my side ‘cause I don’t think I can actually fight him.”

“Why not?” Leo frowns.

Duck sighs. “I don’t… this is gonna sound dumb but I think I like him too much? Like— he’s a weird-ass dude and his morals are basically nonexistent but I need him to like me.”

Leo gives Duck a sympathetic but mildly disappointed look. “I know what you mean, kid. I don’t… I can’t say what you’re feeling but I know it’s not always clear-cut.”

Duck raises an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“Sometimes… even when you know someone isn’t  _ for  _ you, you want to be around them anyway,” Leo says.

Duck can tell he’s speaking from experience. He wonders if it has anything to do with the ring that Leo wears on a necklace chain, hidden under his shirt most days.

“Yeah,” Duck says finally, when he realizes he’s supposed to be a person. “I don’t know, I just wanted to fill you in on that situation because I realize you should’ve been in on it from the start.”

“Thank you,” Leo says, “I’m guessing we’ll get more details as Indrid gets his visions?”

“Yeah,” Duck sighs, “Thank you in advance for coming with me to get Minerva.”

“Of course, she’s my friend too,” Leo says.

Both of them are quiet for a minute. It’s been weird, not talking to her, after years of near-daily contact.

“We should meet up with the PG tomorrow,” Leo says.

Duck looks up. “Yeah, definitely. We gotta take care of the worm before it can go any farther.”

“Yeah,” Leo nods, “Did you have anything else you wanted to talk about?”

“No, I think I just— just needed to talk to someone about stuff with, who understands,” Duck says.

“Yeah, I get that,” Leo says.

“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow, at what, maybe nine?” Duck says, making his way back to the door.

“Nine works. I’d call everyone now, if I were you,” Leo says.

“For sure,” Duck says, “Well, have a good night.”

“You too.” Leo shuts the door.

Duck goes back to his own apartment. He stares at the phone for a good five minutes before he actually picks it up. Three numbers: Amnesty Lodge, the Cryptonomica, and Juno. He knows them all by heart. No one seems very jazzed about a meeting at nine in the morning, but they don’t have much room to wait.

With that done, Duck goes to bed. He’s going to need the rest.

~~☄~~

The next morning, the basement of Amnesty Lodge is filled with tension.

Mama is in her usual chair, with Barclay and Aubrey almost flanking her. Ned is hovering by the kitchenette, fiddling with his shiny new cane (no doubt crafted by Kirby over the past few days). Juno is sitting casually on the arm of the couch. Most remarkably, Leo is standing stiffly in the corner by the stairs. He hasn’t been a part of the official Pine Guard proceedings in a long time.

“So,” Mama starts, “What do we know?”

She goes over to the whiteboard from last time. Everyone looks over at Duck. 

Duck sighs. “Indrid says we’re not gonna get it in time. I don’t know if that’s true, but it’s what he said. He did teach Aubrey the spell, but I don’t think we’ve seen the thing since.”

“Is that all he said to you?” Barclay asks. He sounds skeptical.

Duck feels kind of hurt by that. “About the monster.”

“So you have been talking about other things,” Ned says.

“Why don’t y’all believe that I can be friends with anyone outside this room?” Duck asks. Aubrey laughs.

“No one thinks you can’t have friends, Duck, we just know the look,” Mama says. Duck tries to respond, but Mama cuts him off. “But that’s not what we’re here for. Aubrey, you said you had something?”

Aubrey steps forward. “I’ve been practicing a bunch of magic that Janelle taught me, and basically I’ve learned how to find this thing, and how to trap it. The problem is, I have to get its energy signature-type thing first before I can trap it. So we need a way to draw it out, and if we can’t get it then, I can follow it to wherever it goes.”

“That’s great,” Mama says, “Did you find out anything about its weaknesses?”

“Not really anything specific, mostly just ‘fight magic with magic’ type stuff,” Aubrey says.

“What we really need is more spellcasters,” Ned says.

“And where do you suggest we find those?” Leo asks. He sounds snippy.

“Well, Duck says Indrid can do magic, and maybe we could borrow someone from Sylvain?” Ned suggests.

“The crystal can’t handle that kind of usage,” Aubrey says.

“Then how come you can use magic?” Ned asks.

Aubrey looks a little perplexed by that. “Uh, I don’t know.”

“Anyways,” Barclay interjects, “I think we all understand the situation we’re in.”

“Right. I wanted to tell you guys what I found out,” Leo says. Everyone looks at him. “The electric snake isn’t just zapping around to cause problems. It’s taking the electricity.”

“Oh shit,” Aubrey says.

“Yeah. I went to check on all the electrical stuff after it was safe to go over there, and it was like, the power was completely cut,” Leo says, “I’m no scientist, but I know electricity doesn’t just disappear when you turn the switch off.”

“You think it’s charging up power?” Mama asks, already writing it on the board.

“I mean, what else? It’s gotta be waiting out the barrier,” Leo says.

“Right,” Mama says. She puts her marker down. “Then do we need to lure it out?”

“How would we do that?” Barclay asks.

“We could always try overloading the power grid, or maybe put something on the news about everyone turning off all the electronics they can, then get the power turned on at one of the shut-down ski resorts,” Juno says.

“I like that,” Mama comments.

“Won’t it know it’s a trap by then?” Ned asks.

“I think it wants the attention,” Aubrey says, “Why else would it go for the Pizza Hut? It’s not using the most electricity, but it is in the middle of town with a big sign.”

“That’s a good point,” Barclay says.

“So we should join it in making a scene,” Ned says.

“Not you, old man, you’ve made enough of a scene already,” Juno says.

“You weren’t even there!” Ned protests.

“And yet it was a big enough scene that I know all the details,” Juno counters.

“Whatever,” Ned grumbles, twisting his cane against the carpet.

A knock sounds at the door at the top of the stairs. Everyone freezes. Mama gets up to go see who it is. There’s a few seconds of aching silence as she climbs the stairs. When she finally gets there, the voice that answers fills Duck with dread. 

“Hey, Dani said you guys were in here,” Hollis says.

“Did she now,” Mama says.

Duck gets up from the couch, fighting the instinctive clench in his stomach. “I told them.”

“You did what now?” Mama’s voice is measured and exact. The very ‘we’ll talk about this later’ tone that Duck was afraid of.

“I told them about how, every two months, a monster shows up that we gotta defeat,” Duck says carefully. 

“Plus I know he’s got superpowers or something, on government contract, and that dude he was with can see the future,” Hollis adds in a low voice. “Look, I’m not here to pick fights. We aren’t gonna get anything done by pointing fingers. But I notice that whatever literal lightning bug you guys are hunting hasn’t shown up recently. It’s not dead, is it?”

Mama looks between Hollis and Duck, who is still standing at the bottom of the stairs. “Come inside.”

Two sets of heavy boots clomp down the stairs.

Duck returns to his seat next to Juno. Juno rests her arm on his shoulder; to an outsider, it would look like a sisterly taunt, but to Duck it’s a gesture of protection.

“Here’s our board of things that we know,” Mama says, gesturing to the whiteboard. “Do you have anything to add?”

“It leaves a residue,” Hollis says. They pull a small Pringles can out of their pocket and shake it, making a smooth rustling sound. “It’s almost like iron filings, but it doesn’t react to magnets. When you shine direct light on it, it turns to smoke.”

Mama looks surprised by all this. “You didn’t touch it with your hands, did you?”

“I’m not stupid,” Hollis says, “It didn’t react with the leather of my gloves, either.”

“What kind of pattern did you find it in?” Leo asks.

Hollis points at him. “That was my next thing. It was in this oval shape, under where the arcade game used to be.”

“I found something like that by the transformer on the side of my store. I thought it was just scorch marks so I left it,” Leo says.

“It’s more than scorch marks, that’s for sure,” Hollis says, “Keith tried touching some of it with a lighter and almost lost his eyebrows.”

“It’s from the portals,” Duck realizes. Hollis frowns at him. “The worm, it comes through these white discs. That must be the residue of it.”

“Can I see that?” Aubrey asks, pointing to the can.

“What are you going to do with it?” Hollis asks.

“I—”

“She’s getting her degree in chemistry,” Ned says.

“That’s obviously a lie,” Hollis says.

“Hey, I could be getting a chemistry degree, you don’t know,” Aubrey says.

“What’s the chemical formula for acetate,” Hollis says.

“Uh, acetate, let’s see, that’s got nitrogen—”

“Nope.”

“Do you have a degree in chemistry?” Ned asks.

“I’ve been helping some of the Hornets with their chemistry homework,” Hollis says flatly. They turn back to Aubrey. “So what’s your deal? You can do magic too, I’m guessing?”

Aubrey looks at Mama. Mama doesn’t react.

“Yeah,” Aubrey says.

“Okay, great. Now, let me ask again. What are you going to do with this?” Hollis says.

“I can try and get an energy signature of the worm, so we can actually track it down,” Aubrey says.

“Sounds good to me,” Hollis says, passing Aubrey the Pringles can.

Aubrey takes the can. She peers through the clear lid first. Duck wants to go over and look too, but he can wait his turn. Aubrey looks interested in the substance, shaking it around and looking at it from various angles. Duck is just glad she’s not dumping it out on the desk.

“That’s all the stuff I wanted to tell you,” Hollis says, “I have other stuff to do, but if you guys need backup, give me a call and I’ll get the Hornets together.”

With a horns hand gesture, they walk back up the stairs and out the door.

“Okay, so I guess I should test this stuff,” Aubrey says.

“Yeah, go ahead, bring the folding table into the panic room,” Mama says, “The rest of you all can go too.”

Leo, Ned, and Barclay head towards the stairs, while Aubrey picks up the table and opens the panic room. Duck stands up. He knows he’s not going anywhere. 

Juno pats him on the shoulder. “I’ll wait for you, we can go get coffee.”

“Alright,” Duck says gratefully.

He knows he’s a grown man in a professional setting with rights and social capital, but that doesn’t stop him from getting anxious. Mama has every right to be mad at him for exposing their operation to Hollis. Even if Duck didn’t have a choice, he should have told the Pine Guard first. To be honest, he had entirely forgotten about his conversation with Hollis. That isn’t going to matter to Mama, though.

“Duck,” Mama says.

“Yeah?” Duck replies, voice cracking.

“You told Hollis about the Pine Guard,” Mama says.

“I did,” Duck confirms.

“Would you care to explain why?” Mama asks.

“I— they had me in a corner, alright? I didn’t try to tell them, but they’ve already seen a lot, I’d rather have them and the Hornets on our side than try and figure things out for themselves,” Duck says.

Mama considers that. Duck hopes he said the right thing.

“I’m not mad at you, I just need you to understand the risk of this kind of thing,” Mama says.

Duck is not at all reassured by that. “I understand completely, I know it’s important to keep all this secret. But like I said, I didn’t have a choice, and it’s better if they listen to us.”

“It’s better if they didn’t know at all,” Mama remarks.

“I— I didn’t— It’s not like I told them everything. I just told them as much as they already knew, and that this place is the center of operation,” Duck says. He’s trying not to get worked up, because this isn’t a fight he can win.

“I understand, Duck, I’m just saying, you gotta be careful about this sort of thing. Who knows how far that information will go now,” Mama says.

Guilt and panic are hitting Duck in waves. “I know, I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to be sorry,” Mama says, “I’m just concerned, because usually you’re the most tight-lipped of all of us.”

“Really?” Duck raises an eyebrow.

“Well, you got a lot more to hide, right?” Mama points out.

“I guess, but I mean, you’ve seen me try and lie, right?” Duck replies.

“Yeah, I have, which is why I know you don’t talk unless you have to,” Mama says, “I just— it seems real coincidental to me, that as soon as this Indrid character shows up, we get the Hornets on our case.”

“Well, I— I guess it was kinda related because Indrid was the one who told me that the Hornet’s Nest was gonna burn down. But like, we stopped that, so it seemed like the price we had to pay,” Duck says.

“Sure,” Mama says, “I don’t really care that much why you did it, to be honest. i just need you to not do it again.”

“Right, of course,” Duck says.

“Alright, lecture over, let me know if something else happens,” Mama says.

“Will do,” Duck promises, “See ya.”

“Bye.”

Duck walks shakily up the stairs. That didn’t go so bad.

~~☄~~

“So how bad was it?” Juno asks.

Duck slides the cardboard sleeve up and down his coffee cup. “Not the worst, considering what I did. I think Mama’s just overwhelmed right now, she doesn’t have the time or energy to tear me a new one.”

“Yeah,” Juno nods, “Can I ask what happened? Like why you told Hollis?”

“It was a promise I had to make to get into the Hornet’s Nest, that night when the worm was going around,” Duck says, “They showed up the next day at my apartment and I didn’t really have a choice. They’d already seen  _ something _ so I figured it was better to give them a little bit of understanding before they go around making everyone panic.”

“That seems like the best thing you coulda done. And aside from earlier, it’s not like they’re in our business about it,” Juno says.

“Right. Like they said they just want their gang and Kepler to be safe, and y’know they’re pretty good at crowd management. With the Hornets out in the woods all the time, it’s a wonder they haven’t come to us before. If anyone outside the PG needed to know it’s them,” Duck says. He feels like he’s still trying to justify it to himself.

“Yeah,” Juno agrees, “And I know Mama’s under a lot of duress, so I can’t blame her, but if what you’ve told me is true, then we need to be thinking big picture.”

“I didn’t tell anyone about that,” Duck realizes, “Shit. Should I have?”

“Probably?” Juno shrugs.

“Great,” Duck sighs, drinking his coffee.

“Well, I mean, there ain’t much we can do to prepare for it, especially if we don’t have a deadline, so I think it’s fine for now,” Juno says.

“Is it?” Duck asks.

“Let me put it this way: it won’t matter either way,” Juno says.

“That’s reassuring,” Duck laughs.

Juno hums in acknowledgement, sipping her drink. “Sarah moved back to the apartment, right?”

“Yeah,” Duck says.

“Did you two talk at all?” Juno asks.

“I— we— we exchanged pleasantries, but I’m pretty sure she hates me? Which, sure, fine, whatever, I just don’t know what to do about it,” Duck says.

“Why would she hate you?” Juno asks.

“I smashed her window and was dating you, at least in her mind,” Duck says.

“Well— I mean, neither of those is true though, so why would she hate you for it?” Juno asks.

“I don’t know, it just seemed like she didn’t wanna talk to me. It’s fine, really, it’s not a big deal. I’m sure things will get better once she’s settled in her apartment,” Duck says.

“I hope so,” Juno says, “I mean, I at least want to be able to hang out with both of you at the same time.”

“I think I could manage that, being a third wheel,” Duck says.

“You’re still my best friend,” Juno protests.

“Sure, but you’ve been hanging out with me since we were kids. I get it if you wanna spend some time with just Sarah,” Duck says.

“I spent like three days with her, I think I’ll be alright,” Juno says.

“How was that? I mean like, what happened?” Duck asks.

“It was alright, she slept in the guest bedroom, and if I was home I cooked for her too. It was a little weird, it was like the only time I’d ever felt like being a housewife would be fun,” Juno says.

“Never thought I’d see Juno Divine domesticated,” Duck teases.

“At least I don’t think going shopping together is romantic,” Juno says.

“Are you sure? Imagine it, you and Sarah at like, an IKEA—”

“No, you will not say those words to me, not on this day,” Juno says.

Duck laughs. “Now you see what I mean.”

“No, Duck Anthony Newton, I will end you, that is not what I’m saying,” Juno threatens in a whisper.

Duck just laughs harder. “Alright, I’ll stop.”

They sit and drink their coffee quietly for a bit. Duck gets an idea.

“Hey do you think— what’s today— oh shit, it’s Friday,” Duck says.

“Yeah bud,” Juno says.

“Wait, did Christmas fucking happen? Wait, no, hold on a second, did I seriously— Juno, stop laughing, I think I literally—” Duck does the math. Juno looks equal parts concerned and amused. “Okay, hold on, hold the fucking phone, Juno, I’m not kidding, Christmas was Tuesday, right? Yeah, that’s the day Minerva took off and I ended up sleeping half the day.”

“Oh jeez,” Juno says.

“I mean, I don’t care that much, but like, I didn’t even fuckin’ know,” Duck says.

“You’ve been going through a lot,” Juno reassures him.

“I’m just glad I don’t have to worry about regular work hours,” Duck sighs.

“Yeah,” Juno says.

“Okay, actually, I was gonna ask you— do you think you could get Sarah out of work on… Tuesday?”

“You mean the federal holiday New Year’s Day?” Juno says.

A wave of shock and relief floods Duck’s brain. “Fuckin’-- I don’t know who I am anymore. Thank you, nevermind, forget what I said.”

“No now I wanna know your scheme,” Juno says.

“I ain’t scheming,” Duck insists, hoping that the joking tone will hide his lying.

“Lemme guess: Minerva’s going to the telescope?” Juno asks.

Duck’s eyebrows shoot up. “How’d you know?”

“Because she’s the only one I ever seen you worry about besides me,” Juno says, “I know y’all are like family, and I know that she’s the only family you’d ever  _ scheme _ to help out.”

“I’d scheme to help you,” Duck argues.

“You need me for the scheme,” Juno counters.

“Maybe,” Duck says into his coffee.

“So what’s your strategy?” Juno asks.

Duck doesn’t answer her, because now he’s thinking, what is his strategy? Indrid got him thinking that he would have to fight people off, but if the telescope is closed, no one would be there.

“I have to make a phone call,” Duck says.

He stands up from the table and goes out to the payphone. Juno is looking at him through the window. Duck punches in Indrid’s phone number and jams change into the slot.

It picks up on the first ring. “Took you long enough.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Duck hisses. It occurs to him that maybe he shouldn’t have this outburst in the street, but it’s too late now.

“It is so easy to get on your nerves,” Indrid says, “But no, I’m sorry, this one is partially on me. I mean, you could have looked at a calendar any time you liked, but I was looking ahead to the wrong day. I apologize, but I don’t think that’s why you’re really mad.”

“Well, you did still try to justify murder,” Duck says.

“I never explicitly said murder was going to happen,” Indrid says.

“You implied it pretty damn hard,” Duck says.

“Sure, but you should be prepared for the possibility. You never know who’s going to turn out to be a spy!” Indrid says.

“You’re an asshole.”

“I’ve been called worse.”.

“I’m sure.”

“Anyways, I’m sure you’d hate to leave Juno hanging. I have stuff to attend to as well, so I’ve got to go. I do know Leo will be coming with us, which is fine, I don’t care. Be sure to channel this anger during the fight, see you!” Click.

Duck drops the phone back onto the hook, defeated. He cannot handle this right now. He lifts his head, straightens his posture, and goes back inside.

“What did he say?” Juno frowns.

“Just— he’s been being a dick. But he’s— so I let him in on the retrieval process for Minerva, because he said it would kind of a mess. I— I gotta stop trusting him,” Duck says.

“Yeah you do,” Juno agrees, “But hey, pretty soon Minerva’ll get here, I’m sure she could knock some sense into him if he does anything shitty.”

“Okay, I get it, you have a muscle crush on Minerva, I don’t wanna hear about it,” Duck teases.

Juno laughs. “Listen, it’s obective. Women with swords are hot. Would I ever act on that with Minerva? Absolutely not, but I cannot change the facts.”

“Alright,” Duck says.

“I know, you like your men nerdy, but you gotta admit the appeal of someone wielding a nice longsword,” Juno says.

Duck doesn’t like how his brain immediately jumps to Indrid. “I’ll give you that.”

Juno drains the last of her coffee. “Should we get going?”

“Probably,” Duck says.

They stand up and throw away their trash. With a wave goodbye to the barista, they leave the Kepler Cup.

~~☄~~

Another day passes. Radio silence from the worm.

The barrier expands by a mile. Nothing.

Another day, and now it’s three miles from the gate to the barrier.

One more day. Five miles. Duck doesn’t go to any New Years Eve celebrations.

And then suddenly it’s January 1, 2019. New Year’s Day. The day Minerva is coming to Earth. The barrier is eight miles out from the gate, meaning the telescope is now fair game. Numbly, Duck wonders if that’s what he’s in for.

The phone rings. Duck has been waiting for it.

“You look sad,” Indrid says.

“I’m just tired,” Duck says irritably.

“Are you ready to go?” Indrid asks.

“Yeah,” Duck replies, “Where are we meeting?”

“There’s a turnoff by the river, just north of the Cryptonomica, that seems like a good place,” Indrid says.

“If you say so,” Duck says.

“Seriously, you sound down, what’s wrong?” Indrid asks.

“Oh, I dunno, maybe the fact that the super fucked up monster we’re supposed to be hunting is unfindable but it could strike at any moment,” Duck says, “I think I’m worried about that, yeah. No lemme check? Yeah it’s definitely that.”

Indrid sighs. “Minerva will give us an advantage in the fight. But you don’t seem very excited to see her.”

“I am,” Duck insists.

He had been doing some thinking over the past few days. Minerva is basically family to him. But at the same time, she’s responsible for the destruction of a planet and the revenge that the survivors have been taking out on Earth. Duck knows it must have been a tough decision to make. He also knows he doesn’t have time to reason this out right now. He just wants to justify the Minerva he knows with the Minerva that he’ll be fighting alongside.

Indrid speaks again. “You’ll feel better when we get there. Come on, we don’t have a lot of time.” 

Click.

Duck puts on his boots, jacket, hat. Grabs his keys, water bottle, and the backpack he keeps Beacon in for hunts. He doesn’t know what exactly he’s preparing for, but he’s going to be prepared.

Leo is waiting at the bottom of the stairs. They go out to Duck’s truck in silence.

As much as Duck hates to admit it, Indrid is right. He should be happy right now. He’s just so on edge about everything, and his power-removal flu hasn’t been getting better, and Indrid has lied to him so many times. Who knows? Minerva may not even be there at all, and Indrid might be leading them right into a trap. Duck can barely bring himself to worry about the possibility.

It’s a fairly short drive to the spot Indrid described. Duck parks along the edge of the dirt lot that had been carved there. After a moment, Indrid emerged from nowhere and approaches the car.

“Hey,” Indrid greets. He’s in some approximation of a stealth suit, meaning black leggings and multiple dark grey hoodies. He looks like a stagehand trying to strangle himself in his own infinity scarf.

The mental bullying makes Duck feel better. “Howdy. I’m guessing we get out of the car?”

Indrid nods. “This should only take a minute.”

Duck and Leo get out of the truck. Leo doesn’t talk. Indrid doesn’t address him.

Instead, Indrid gets to work. Almost immediately, he takes a handful of light and smears it across the side of the truck. The metal melts like butter and solidifies in the shape of a nondescript red sedan. Duck almost gasps. He’s never seen magic work so smoothly before.

“This should do it,” Indrid says.

“Yeah,” Duck says, still at a loss for words.

“Well, shall we?” Indrid suggests.

Duck just nods and gets in the driver’s seat. Leo beats Indrid to the passenger seat, and Indrid folds himself into the backseat. Everyone puts on their seatbelts without Duck having to remind them.

It takes a bit to get to the telescope. The car is filled with an intense, near painful silence. Duck feels like he’s being squeezed out of his seat by the tension. No one is even saying anything, but it feels like there’s a fight happening. Leo and Indrid clearly don’t like each other, and Duck knows he can’t pick a side. He just hopes that this will all be over quickly.

They pull up to the gate of the telescope. No one is there, not even a security guard. Indrid hops out of the car, does something to the lock on the gate, and it slides open.

“Meet me by the base of the telescope, but don’t park too close,” Indrid says.

Duck nods, “Got it.”

Indrid walks off. Duck pulls around to a parking lot near an employee entrance to the telescope. He turns off the car and gets out, followed by Leo.

“So this is it, huh?” Duck says. He doesn’t know why he said it, but it felt right. 

“I guess so,” Leo sighs.

They make their way to the front of the base of the telescope. Indrid is there, building something in the air out of small red triangles of light. It looks like a geodesic dome. As they get closer, Indrid gestures for them to stop. Then he blows up the dome and tosses it into the air. It arcs across the sky, still growing, until it lands, making a thin, clear structure with a 20 foot diameter.

“This should keep both sound and magical detritus contained, but we can pass through the walls,” Indrid explains.

“Is that where she’ll be landing?” Duck asks.

“Yes, if my approximations are correct,” Indrid says.

“Great. When?” Duck replies.

“Soon.”

That’s not helpful at all, but Duck doesn’t feel like trying again.

So they wait it out. Duck checks his watch every thirty seconds. Leo shifts from side to side, his longsword resting against his hip. The backpack carrying Beacon weighs heavy in Duck’s clenched hand. Indrid is standing perfectly still, face turned up to the grey sky.

A sharp snap sounds across the open grass.

Duck looks up. Descending from the rim of the telescope is the big, crackling form of the lightning worm. It’s easily twice as big as it was in Sarah’s apartment, and it’s coming right for them.

“Fuck!” Duck shouts. He draws Beacon out of the bag.

“Ah, hello Duck Newton, finally decided you need my services? It’s been a while—” 

“Not now, dipshit.” Duck whips Beacon up at the worm. 

The worm recoils, but it’s still coming. Leo swings his sword up, making an arc of periwinkle light. The worm swerves around and lashes its tail.

Duck sprints toward Leo and jumps up to slash at the worm with Beacon. It might go very badly, but he needs to distract it.

“Duck, lead it to the dome!” Indrid shouts.

Duck looks back momentarily. The dome is maybe ten yards behind him. Suddenly, a longsword cuts inches in front of him, deflecting the worm’s strike. Duck nods a quick thanks to Leo and takes off running.

The worm seems focused on him, which is good. The heavy sparks it’s throwing at him are less good, but he can handle it. Every few steps he turns around to aggravate it again with Beacon. Beacon himself is pouting but silent.

Duck runs a little farther. He can feel waves of energy radiating from Indrid’s barrier. It’s so close, he can almost reach it—

A metallic hum starts up somewhere above Duck. He looks up, brandishing his sword somewhere behind him. It’s some kind of aircraft, shaped like a three-dimensional parallelogram with rounded edges. Minerva’s ship.

“Back up!” Leo warns.

But Duck can feel the static coming off the lightning worm. There’s no way he can turn around now. It’s either forward or downward.

Suddenly, a burst of red light shatters through the worm. Indrid stands some distance away, holding his arms out. Duck takes the opportunity to rush sideways and juke the worm, leading it back towards Leo.

It doesn’t follow him. Instead, it starts approaching Indrid slowly. It looks between him and the aircraft, as if realizing something. It straightens up to its full length.

Duck starts inching closer to Indrid. If this thing decides to attack, he doesn’t want a repeat of the Hornet’s Nest. 

The lightning worm launches itself into the air towards Minerva. Her ship is maybe 35 feet off the ground, and the worm is moving fast. Duck speeds up to intercept it, but he doesn’t know how he’ll get up into the air.

Before he can do anything, Indrid shoots up into the air on a beam of red light. He hovers between the worm and the ship and forces the worm sideways. Duck watches him summon ropes of magic to ensnare the worm and drag it back to the ground.

Duck dodges the worm, and Indrid lands in front of him. Indrid looks winded— he’s been using a lot of magic, and he just fucking  _ flew _ . But the worm isn’t slowing down. Minerva’s ship is getting closer, the worm is getting closer, Indrid is too far from Duck.

The worm rears back. Duck knows what he has to do.

In a spur of reckless fear and something else, Duck leaps in front of Indrid, Beacon hoisted in the air.

“Duck Newton, I don’t think this is a good—”

The blade makes contact with the worm.

For a moment, Duck is floating in midair, weightless. 

And then he’s in the air, no longer in his body but instead looking down, seeing the halo of scorching light around his body. Seeing Indrid in react in slow motion, horrified but unable to help. Seeing Leo drop his sword in shock. Seeing a dashboard of foreign buttons, tattooed hands that are not his own gripping the controls tight enough to dent the metal.

Then Duck sees… nothing.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Duck wakes up in a hospital room, and ends up with more friends than he's had in years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [sonic riders dub voice] welcome to the world of emotional resolution! we're getting out here, im thinking it'll be a nice 11 chapters.  
>  **warnings for this chapter:** hospital scenery, brief mentions of overdose, description of scars

Duck wakes up in a white room.

It’s a sterile linoleum scene, with strange machines beeping and humming. There’s vague voices, probably on the other side of the door. There’s a chair next to Duck, with a person sitting half-sideways in it. That’s Indrid. Right. This is a hospital room.

Why is Duck in a hospital room? More specifically, why is he the one in the bed? Flashes of memories bounce around his brain, losing their order. Telescope. Lightning worm. Minerva. Indrid.

Indrid. Indrid is here. That’s an even better question. Sure, Duck got hurt, but Indrid seems fine, so why did he show up?

“I came to apologize,” Indrid says.

The sound of his voice is jarring, but it helps to clear Duck’s mind. “Why? I mean, for what?”

“For… for a lot of things. I won’t overwhelm you with that now though, I’m sure you have questions,” Indrid says.

“Well, I just did two of ‘em,” Duck says.

“Yeah,” Indrid says, laughing a little. “But I’m sure you have more.”

“I do, yeah, mostly just ‘what exactly am I in the hospital for,’” Duck says.

“You— well, you saved me, is the ‘why,’ but the ‘for what’ is the major electrocution and subsequent concussion you suffered,” Indrid says.

“Shit,” Duck says, “Am I alive?”

Indrid looks stuck between amusement and confusion. “You are, at least, as alive as anyone can be at a time like this. Maybe more. It seemed like the proximity to Minerva strengthened your powers. That’s why your hair is fully pink, by the way.”

“It is?” Duck asks. 

“Yeah, but you don’t need to worry about that right now. As far as gossip goes, most people think you had a stress breakdown, dyed your hair, and took too many xanax,” Indrid says.

“I’m not in college,” Duck protests weakly.

“The alternative is telling them what actually happened,” Indrid points out.

“I know,” Duck says, “Speaking of, where’s Minerva?”

“She’s with Juno, getting some Earth-friendly clothes so she can come visit you. They’ll both be here in about twenty minutes,” Indrid says.

“How long has it been since the telescope?” Duck asks.

“Maybe four hours at the most. Don’t worry, it’s still the same day,” Indrid says.

“Great way to start the year,” Duck laughs.

“Also your car is back to normal, Leo drove it to your apartment, and he also has Beacon, who is not happy,” Indrid says.

“I’m sure,” Duck laughs, “If I got fucked up, imagine being all metal.”

Indrid’s face darkens. “Yeah, Duck, I wanted to apologize. First of all for today, I should’ve— I was being reckless, despite what I had been planning. And you paid the price for it, which is extremely unfair.”

“I appreciate that, but I saw you go down on that first night, and I was strong enough to handle it,” Duck replies.

“I don’t doubt that you took the hit better than I would have, but you shouldn’t have had to,” Indrid says. He takes a deep breath, which Duck has never seen him do before. “The truth is, I’ve been seeing today for weeks. Different variations, different people getting hurt, I’ve explained it before.”

“Well, then this was just one of the outcomes,” Duck says.

“No, Duck— sorry. I just— I’ve been playing the long game, trying to get the ending I wanted,” Indrid says.

“What d’you mean?” Duck asks.

Indrid sighs. “I saw a version where no one got hurt by the lightning worm. It was elusive, but I thought I was on the right track. I thought— I’m realizing just how much of an asshole this makes me. I thought if I was rude to you and provoked you— I thought I could test you. I thought I could push you to the point where you would save yourself for once and tap into the full spectrum of powers that Minerva affords you. And for that, I’m very sorry. I had no right to do that and it didn’t work anyway.”

Duck doesn’t know what to say. Here he was, thinking he was just overreacting to Indrid and simultaneously losing his faith in fate. This whole time, Indrid had been manipulating him. But manipulating him into saving himself? Duck has no idea how he’s supposed to feel about this. Indrid had his best interest in mind, technically. And he had never been unkind to Duck. But he also hadn’t been honest.

“I…” Duck tries.

“You don’t have to forgive me,” Indrid says, starting to stand up. “I can leave, if you want—”

“Don’t,” Duck says, “Please.”

Indrid sits back down.

“I just— You were trying to get me to save myself?” Duck asks.

“Well, I— I figured if you didn’t think I was worth protecting, you wouldn’t jump in front of any kind of bullet for me,” Indrid explains, “I know it was a stupid plan, especially because I couldn’t bring myself to actually be mean to you? Once I actually made contact with you, it was clear how much you care about your town and your family. I didn’t have the strength to ruin that for you. If anything, you made  _ me  _ reconsider how I’ve been approaching things.”

“That’s— I mean, I don’t know how much of what you said was what you actually think, but if I could turn you away from murdering folks to get what you want, I think we’re even,” Duck says.

“I only turn to murder as a last resort,” Indrid says. Duck huffs out a laugh. 

“That’s as much as I can ask for, I guess.” Duck thinks for a second. If now is the time for honesty, he might as well tell someone. “But to your point, I have been thinking over the monster hunting. You asked me, that night we were stuck in the ranger station together, why I did this if I didn’t like it. And I stand by my answer, y’know, someone’s gotta do it. But I just… if I’m being honest, and selfish, I don’t really wanna do it anymore.”

“Do you want a frightening truth or a reassuring lie?” Indrid says.

“The truth, I guess,” Duck says.

“Chances are, the abominations won’t be a problem for much longer, because the people sending them will be arriving on Earth in the next few months,” Indrid says.

“Cool! Great! You love to hear it,” Duck replies sarcastically.

“Well, if you survive that, which I think you’re capable enough to do, you won’t have to worry about hunting monsters ever again,” Indrid says.

“Is that ‘cause the world will be controlled by aliens and all the humans left gotta hide in underground bunkers?” Duck asks.

“Um, I certainly hope not, but I can’t really tell that far ahead,” Indrid says.

“Can’t wait,” Duck remarks.

“It won’t be that bad, I’m sure,” Indrid assures him.

Neither of them speak for a minute. Duck is looking at Indrid, feeling like he’s finally  _ seeing _ him for the first time since that night in the ranger station. Indrid’s outfit is disheveled, and his scarf is wound haphazardly around his arm. His glasses look a little unscrewed too; his stubble is nearing beard-length and his fangs are out. It’s not a bad look, honestly. Maybe not the best for a hospital, but no one else is in here right now.

As if summoned by Duck’s misfortune, a knock sounds at the door.

Indrid gets up to open it. Duck notices that he adjusts his glasses.

“Hey,” Juno says, rushing into the room, “Duck! You’re awake! How’re you feeling?”

Duck takes a second to assess that. “I’m definitely alive.”

“That’s good,” Juno says.

Next into the room is Minerva. It takes a second for Duck to connect the blue hologram he knows to the dark-skinned woman with glowing tattoos towering in front of him, especially while she’s dressed in Target’s finest couture. But then Minerva speaks, and a rush of relief and happiness floods him.

“Duck Newton! I am so glad to hear that you are alright,” Minerva greets.

“Hey Minerva, I’m glad you got here in one piece,” Duck says.

“Of course! The vacuum of space is no match for my warrior prowess,” Minerva says. Duck knows she’s playing it up for his benefit.

“Right, natch,” Duck smiles.

“I’ll leave you all to catch up,” Indrid says.

“I’ll call you once I get home,” Duck says.

Indrid looks a little surprised by that. “Okay, uh, yeah, I’ll— I’ll talk to you then.”

“Bye Indrid,” Juno waves. Once he’s gone, she turns to Duck. “So y’all made up then?”

“Yeah, I think so. It’s complicated, but I— I dunno. He apologized unprompted, so that’s something,” Duck says.

“Character development,” Juno nods.

“Well— he’d been manipulating me into not liking him so I wouldn’t try and be a hero when he was about to get hurt,” Duck says.

“Huh.”

“Right.”

“It did not work,” Minerva chimes in.

“Clearly,” Juno says.

“Listen, that doesn’t matter right now,” Duck says, “What happened with the lightning worm? Is it still around?”

“Unfortunately yes. Leo and I managed to hold it off, but then it disappeared, and by that time you and Indrid were gone,” Minerva says.

“Oh, also, people are saying they saw the Mothman,” Juno says.

“What? When?” Duck asks.

“Today, while you were at the telescope. I don’t know if that’s a coincidence, or maybe your presence is the one thing keeping Kepler from Mothman encounters,” Juno says.

“Aw man, sorry I’ve been depriving y’all of the Mothman,” Duck says.

“It’s alright, we got enough stuff to cover up in this town anyway,” Juno says.

“May I ask what the ‘Mothman’ is?” Minerva asks.

“Oh, right, okay, so they’re like, a giant humanoid creature, accounts vary on how actually moth-like they are, some say they’re more like a bat or an owl. But they’re real big and they fly at night with big glowing red eyes and they’re supposedly an omen of disaster,” Duck explains.

“Are they a threat?” Minerva asks.

“Not really? I mean, some say the Mothman was involved in the collapse of a big bridge in the 60s but I don’t think they’re looking to cause trouble,” Duck says.

“Hey Duck, can I say something that’s gonna freak you out?” Juno asks.

“Why does everyone always phrase it like that? Just tell me bad news or don’t,” Duck says.

Juno lowers her voice. “Indrid isn’t just a Sylph. I mean— he’s not like Dani or Janelle.”

“He’s not?” Duck frowns, “Then what’s with the teeth?”

“The teeth?” Juno asks.

“Yeah, when he turns his disguise charm down, he’s got these curved fangs,” Duck says.

“Duck, that’s not how Sylvan fangs are,” Juno says.

“Well I dunno, it’s not like I’m studying everyone’s teeth,” Duck says.

“Sure. What I’m saying is, I can See him. He’s got a weird kind of magic signature, and he’s kind of, I dunno, I guess feathery is the best way to describe it,” Juno says.

“What, like Elton John?” Duck asks.

“No, fuckin’— like feathers! Black and cream feathers. Like not skin,” Juno says.

“Not skin,” Duck repeats. He and Juno laugh at the absurdity of the statement.

Minerva looks at Juno. “Do you possess magical abilities?”

“Uh, kinda,” Juno answers, “My family is connected to the celestial plane, but I ain’t exactly a spell-slinger. I can just see through magic disguises if I focus.”

“That is a useful ability,” Minerva says, “And I agree with you. I do not think Indrid is a Sylph, at least in the manner that I am familiar with.”

“What would he be then?” Duck asks.

Minerva sighs. “I do not know. I also do not want to worry you when you need to rest and recover.”

Duck narrowly recalls the pain he’s in, like it’s being projected down a hallway. It tingles up his arms and across his chest. He wonders if it’s going to scar.

“How do I get out of here?” Duck asks.

“A doctor should be in soon, so as long as you can walk you should be good,” Juno says.

“I can walk just fine,” Duck insists. If he says it with enough conviction it has to be true.

“If you say so,” Juno says.

It takes about a half hour to get Duck out of the hospital. Juno was smart enough to bring his insurance information, meaning the government will cover the bill. After some paperwork, Juno drives him and Minerva to his apartment.

“Are you gonna be good without me?” Juno asks through the lowered car window.

“When have I ever been?” Duck replies.

“You know what I mean,” Juno says.

“I’ll be fine. Minerva is here if I fall over or something,” Duck says.

Minerva looks mildly alarmed. “Is that a risk?”

“I dunno, I just figure I should be careful,” Duck shrugs.

“Alright, well, I’ll see ya later, call me if you need anything,” Juno says.

“See ya,” Duck waves.

Juno drives off. Duck opens the door to the building and leads Minerva to his apartment. He isn’t worried about his place looking messy, considering he’s spent the last week or so scrubbing it to the bone. He didn’t really consider the sleeping situation, but his couch folds out and he can take it if Minerva wants the more comfortable bed.

"This is a nice home," Minerva says, "It is one thing to see it in the back of a hologram, but it is much better to be here."

"It's nothing much," Duck says self-consciously.

"It is certainly more, what word is it, homey? More homey than an underground laboratory," Minerva says.

"Why thank you," Duck grins. Toaster comes trotting in. “This is my cat Toaster.”

“What an excellent little creature,” Minerva says. Toaster walks up to rub on her legs. Minerva reaches a hand towards her, and Toaster hops up to push her cheek against it. “A powerful defender!”

Duck laughs. He watches Toaster warm up immediately to Minerva, before checking the clock. "Have you eaten recently?"

"Yes, Juno prepared an excellent meal for me earlier," Minerva says.

"That's good," Duck says.

"You need to eat too, now that you have returned from another successful battle," Minerva says.

"I don't know if I'd call that successful," Duck says.

Minerva goes into the kitchen and starts rifling through the pantry, pulling out random food items.

"I mean, I can make my own food," Duck says.

"Nonsense! A warrior doesn't prepare their own feast," Minerva says.

"I ain't much of a warrior," Duck says.

Minerva turns to him. "Duck Newton, you warded off an imposing enemy, even risking your life to save your fellow fighter. You ensured that I landed safely and that Kepler would be safe for another day. Is that not what a warrior does?"

Duck tries to come up witth something, but he thinks Minerva is right. "Alright, yeah, I guess."

"Right! Now sit down, you are injured and I don't want you to strain yourself," Minerva says.

"I'm just standing," Duck says. He sits down at the kitchen table nonetheless.

Minerva spends the next half hour bustling around the kitchen. Duck isn't really sure what she's making, or if Minerva even knows what she's making. It does smell good though, so Duck can't be mad. As much as he protested, he appreciates Minerva cooking for him. His muscles are really aching, actually. Maybe he should take something.

Minerva sets a bunch of dishes on the table. She sits down across from Duck and hands him some silverware. Duck looks at the spread before him. Minerva pulled together fresh meats and vegetables, warm bread, and some kind of creamy soup. 

"This looks great," Duck says. He doesn't mention that it's a whole family worth of food. Or that none of this was in his apartment when he left it this morning.

"Eat!" Minerva encourages.

Duck eats. It's delicious. All of his questions and worries are out the window as he eats his first good meal in over a week. Things are going to be okay, he realizes. Minerva is here, everyone is relatively safe, and they know how to kill the lightning worm. And even though there's a lot of stuff Duck doesn't know, it's not his job to know things. He'll figure things out as he goes.

When Duck is done going wild, Minerva is looking at him with a fond expression.

"What?" Duck asks, wiping his mouth with a napkin.

"I am proud of you, Duck," Minerva says.

"For finishing my dinner?" Duck frowns.

Minerva laughs. "More than that. I am proud of you for… everything. You have grown so well into your Chosen status. I couldn't ask for a better protegé to handle the coming challenges."

"I…" Duck doesn't know how to handle this. "Thank you, that means a lot. Really, I'm… I'm glad I could make you proud." He might be crying just a little bit.

"Of course you have. I know my guidance might not mean as much to you as it did before, but as I have said before, I am grateful to have influenced even a little bit of who you are today," Minerva says.

"Well no, your guidance is still important to me," Duck says, his voice damp.

Minerva is looking a little teary-eyed too. "I am happy for that too, then."

“I know that maybe I haven’t been getting the whole picture, but I also know that you’ve been there for me for a long time. I’m glad to have you around,” Duck says.

Minerva jumps up from the table, startling Duck. She comes over and wraps him in a big hug. Duck laughs a little and puts his arms around her. It becomes something of a squeezing competition, lasting way longer than a normal hug. Duck doesn’t care.

Eventually, they let go. Minerva smiles. “I am glad to be around.”

The rest of the day is spent getting Minerva settled in. She decided that she would stay alternate nights at Duck’s and Leo’s apartments. Armed with her small collection of Target bags, they head downstairs.

Of course, who else is in the front hallway but Sarah.

“Oh, hey,” Sarah greets, clearly caught off guard by the Amazon descending the staircase.

“Hey Sarah, how’s it going?” Duck acts casual. “This is Minerva, she’s visiting town for a while. Minerva, this is Sarah, we went to high school together.”

“It is nice to meet you!” Minerva says brightly.

“You too,” Sarah says after a moment.

“Hey Minerva, you go on ahead to Leo’s place, I’ll be just a minute,” Duck says.

“Alright, I can take the other bags,” Minerva says.

Duck hands them over, and Minerva easily carries all of them to Leo’s apartment. As soon as she’s out of earshot, Sarah turns to Duck.

“Okay, what kind of alien bullshit are you up to right now? ‘Cause I know you didn’t choose this all-pink look and that woman’s eyes are fuckin’ glowing,” Sarah asks, gesturing around.

“What? Aliens— those aren’t— no, got none of that,” Duck sputters.

“You’re just as bad a liar as you were in college,” Sarah accuses, “I spend at least five days a week listening to the stars, I know that there’s other worlds out there. And based on your  _ everything _ right now, you know too.”

“I— yeah, alright, fine. Minerva’s the last survivor of an alien planet who’s been using a wormhole in my brain to give me combat powers for the past 25 years. Is that what you wanna hear?” Duck gives in.

“Is that why I got an alert today about someone breaking into the telescope?” Sarah asks.

“That was me,” Duck admits.

“What about the window.”

“What?”

“My window that you didn’t break.”

“That’s a different alien, from— okay, this is gonna take a lot of explaining.”

“Some planets are paired with other planets via manually generated tesseract-type wormholes that only work during certain alignments on their parallel orbits,” Sarah says.

“How the fuck do you know that?” Duck demands.

“Lucky guess,” Sarah says, looking down.

“Juno,” Duck realizes.

“What, I can’t know things on my own?”

“That’d be one hell of a lucky guess.”

Sarah shrugs. “Fine, yeah, Juno told me some stuff. Not everything, I’m sure, but enough for me to piece together. I’m guessing we’ve got some folks from another planet living here?”

“Legally I cannot say,” Duck says.

“Alright, so the folks at Am—”

“Stop!” Duck hisses, “You want the whole damn neighborhood to find out?”

“Why bother keeping it a secret? Do people not deserve to know?” Sarah asks.

“It’s not up to me,” Duck says.

“Listen Duck, even I, a civillian, realize things are escalating beyond whatever government NDA you’re under. It’s not your secret to keep anymore,” Sarah says.

“If anyone at Amnesty Lodge is from another planet, that’s their business, it’s not my place to reveal that,” Duck says.

“Sure, but that ain’t the only thing going on, clearly,” Sarah says.

“We’ve handled stuff like this before, you just got in the crossfire,” Duck says. He’s definitely not going to tell Sarah how bad things are apparently about to get.

“Yeah but how many people are getting caught in that crossfire?” Sarah counters.

Duck takes just a little too long to answer. “Not that many, it’s not— we all just got unlucky—”

“I know this goes above your head, but you gotta think about it,” Sarah says.

“I have thought about it, that’s why I took the job and risk my ass to keep everyone safe,” Duck says.

“Yeah, but who are you fighting for? Is it Kepler, or the government? Or yourself?” Sarah asks.

That’s really the question, isn’t it. Duck doesn’t know the answer. “You’re right. I mean I’m not gonna run through the streets yelling ‘aliens are real and I fight ‘em’ but if it comes up I won’t lie about it.”

“Alright,” Sarah says. She turns away like she’s about to go upstairs, but then looks back. “I’m not— I’m not mad at you, not that I assumed that you would think that but— I’m sorry for yelling at you so much.”

This is more like the Sarah that Duck remembers. “Nah, it’s alright, you’ve always been good at kicking my ass into gear.”

“I just— I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but you’ve probably heard already from Juno. I thought— actually no, I don’t need to bring that up again,” Sarah says.

“You though Juno and I were dating and you were jealous because you like her?” Duck tries.

“How’s that for lucky guesses,” Sarah says darkly.

“I’ve known y’all a while, Juno especially. You have a shot with her,” Duck says.

Sarah grits her teeth. “I don’t know if that’s a shot I can take.”

“Why not?”

“Ugh. I don’t know. She seems like her life is so in order, I mean, she’s got a kid! I don’t know what kids are like! Whenever people do field trips I hide in one of the back labs until they’re gone,” Sarah says.

“It’s alright, you’re lucky you got here when you did. I used to be like that, but Juno’s had Percy since she was little and let me tell you I was  _ not _ a qualified babysitter,” Duck says.

“But thirteen-year-olds are mean,” Sarah says.

“I think Percy’ll warm up to you. If nothing else, she’ll try to get you to let her do stuff Juno won’t. That’s how I knew she liked me,” Duck says.

Sarah laughs. “Well do I let her do those things or will Juno be mad?”

“Depends on the thing. I’ve taught Percy how to use a table saw and that was fine, but I’ve also decidedly not given her money for Fortnite,” Duck says.

“I don’t know anything about Fortnite,” Sarah says, pressing her face with her hands.

“Nah, nah, you don’t gotta, you just gotta know a few words to intentionally misuse. You think I know what a battle bus is? Of course not, but I’ll call Juno’s car that until she yells at me,” Duck grins.

“Oh, I see,” Sarah laughs, “Thanks for the advice.”

“Anytime,” Duck nods.

Sarah checks her watch. “I gotta go, I’ve been procrastinating a big report that’s due tomorrow, but I’ll see ya around, Newton.”

“Oof, good luck,” Duck says, “See ya later.”

Sarah heads up the stairs and out of sight.

Duck finishes helping Minerva settle in, and then goes back to his own apartment. As much as he loves Minerva, he needs some time to figure himself out.

First step is to get a grip on his new look. Duck goes into the bathroom and takes off his shirt. Sure enough, he looks like a He-Man side character. Like Indrid warned him, his hair and beard are bright pink. Raw-looking scars, ranging from thin grooves to inch-wide raised lines, splinter like lightning up his arms and across his chest. Duck wonders if they’ll heal quickly like most of his scars do, or if they’ll stay because they’re from a battle.

With a sigh, Duck puts on a new shirt. He doesn’t have nearly enough energy to try dyeing his hair back to normal. He’ll just have to hope no one questions him too hard.

~~🌣~~

Later that night, Indrid shows up without calling.

Duck can’t even be surprised. He forgot to call Indrid, anyway. Honestly, Duck is just glad Indrid is still around. This seems like exactly the kind of thing that would make him skip town, and yet here he is. 

“Hey,” Duck greets, letting Indrid inside. 

Indrid looks awkward on his doormat, something he never seemed to have a problem with before. “Hi.”

“What’s going on?” Duck asks.

Indrid takes off his coat methodically and places it on the rack. “I just wanted to check on you.”

“You coulda done that over the phone,” Duck points out.

Indrid looks at Duck with the tiniest hint of a smile. “I could have.”

“But you’re here,” Duck says, “Not that I don’t want you here. But this’ll be the second time you’ve broken your self-made house arrest.”

“I’m done sulking,” Indrid says simply.

“Oh yeah?”

“I’ve decided to be responsible for my actions now. This worm isn’t getting any easier to kill, and I can’t pretend it’s not my problem anymore.”

“I’m proud of you,” Duck remarks.

“I’m also doing it,” Indrid continues pointedly, “Because you have saved my life twice now. And I would really hate for you to have to do it a third time.”

“Now— don’t get me wrong, I appreciate the sentiment, but how exactly is getting more involved gonna make you less susceptible to harm?” Duck asks.

“You’re too observant, Duck,” Indrid sighs.

“That is not even close to an answer.”

“I mean, if I’m not half-assing my involvement in the hunt, I’ll be more likely to hold my own.”

“You were holding your own at the telescope.”

“I could have moved any number of directions away from it before it tried to strike.”

“It’s hard to think fast in that kinda situation.”

“If I had been paying more attention to the present, like I should have been, it wouldn’t have been a problem.”

Duck sighs and runs a hand through his hair, still surprised by the pink strands. “Do you want to stay for dinner?”

“Is Minerva going to be here?” Indrid asks.

“She’s staying at Leo’s tonight,” Duck says.

“Sure, I’d love to,” Indrid answers. He sits down at the kitchen table

“Can I ask why you don’t like Minerva? Do you two know each other?” Duck asks, going to wash his hands.

“In a manner of speaking,” Indrid replies.

“Now usually I wouldn’t call you out on being so damn cryptic but you gotta know that wasn’t an answer,” Duck says.

“I’ve met her before, and I wasn’t an especially good person then, and I am sure that she still remembers me from that encounter,” Indrid explains stiffly.

Duck has no idea where to start with that. Between this and what Juno and Minerva said, he's starting to realize how little he knows about Indrid. But it's not like Duck is going to bring it up. “Alright, well, you got any thoughts on dinner?”

“Whatever sounds good to you,” Indrid says.

“Come on, you’re a guest, you can make demands,” Duck says, leaning on the counter.

“A pint of sugar water and orange slices, then,” Indrid says sarcastically.

“What are you, a butterfly?” Duck grins.

Indrid’s face changes for a split second. “Not since I last checked.”

“Alright then, how do you feel about pasta?” Duck says.

“Sounds great,” Indrid says.

Duck gets to work on that. He should probably make a grocery run soon, but he had been avoiding the holiday rush. He still can’t believe he completely ignored two of the biggest winter holidays in favor of worrying about Minerva. To be fair, it wasn’t like he went all out for them anyway, but still. He didn’t even know what day it was until Juno clowned him for it.

Once the water is on the stove, there isn’t much to do but wait for it to boil. Duck keeps glancing over at Indrid, hoping he’ll bring up some new topic of conversation. 

“I wanted to apologize again,” Indrid says finally. He’s staring down at the table.

“What for?” Duck replies.

“Just… I’ve been thinking, since I left you at the hospital. I really had no right to treat you like I did. You had very real problems, like Minerva being AWOL and your friend getting hurt, and I was a complete asshole for no reason,” Indrid says.

Duck recognizes the guilt in his tone. “You know I’m not mad at you, right? And me getting hit by the worm wasn’t your fault.”

“It can be, Duck. You can blame me for it. It’s certainly more my fault than it is yours,” Indrid says.

“You didn’t make me take the hit, I chose to do that. Was it a poorly planned decision? Yeah, definitely. But I’d do it again if I had to,” Duck says.

Indrid finally looks up at him. “Why?”

Duck has to look away. “Well— I don’t like it when folks get hurt, ‘specially if there’s something I can do about it.”

“Are you not counted in that?” Indrid asks.

“Listen,” Duck replies, “It’s not— I don’t like getting hurt. But I know that if anyone should be taking damage, it’s the guy who’s extra resistant to damage.”

“That doesn’t seem very fair,” Indrid says.

“You of all people should know how shit ain’t fair,” Duck says, “Besides, it’s not that bad all the time. It’s just like once the last scars disappear, it’s time to get new ones.”

“That sounds even less healthy,” Indrid says.

“Yeah, well, not everyone gets to be healthy,” Duck says.

“You have to know how ‘tragic hero’ that sounded,” Indrid says.

Duck sighs. “I hate to break it to ya, Indrid, but I might be a tragic hero. I know you’re new in town so you haven’t seen me in action as much, but I’m definitely set to die of my own biggest flaw.”

“Or the water boiling over, if you’re not careful,” Indrid says, nodding to the pot on the stove.

“Oh shit.” Duck lowers the heat and adds the noodles.

It’s quiet again. Duck isn’t sure if he should say something else, or if Indrid is going to say anything. He finishes cooking the pasta silently, puts it onto two plates, and places one in front of Indrid.

“You want anything to drink?” Duck asks.

“Water, please?" Indrid replies.

Duck gets that for him, as well as a glass for himself. He sits down across from Indrid.

"You know you're not getting out of addressing your savior complex," Indrid says.

"I thought you were done being mean to me," Duck says jokingly.

Indrid recoils. "Sorry."

Duck backtracks, "Nah, it's alright. You're right, I mean, I should probably see a therapist about all this, but you know how it is."

"No therapist gets paid enough to deal with all of this," Indrid agrees. 

"I don't fuckin' get paid enough to deal with it in the first place," Duck laughs.

"And I shouldn’t tell you to quit your job, right?” Indrid asks.

Duck shakes his head. “This ain’t something I can just walk away from.”

“Not even a vacation?”

“Not while the worm is still on the loose.”

“Of course.”

They eat quietly for a while. Duck thinks about how much things have changed in just over a week. Two weeks ago, Duck had just run into Indrid at the grocery store, and hadn’t even gotten his name. The lightning worm hadn’t shown up yet, Ned’s jetpack was collecting dust in his inner sanctum, and Minerva was still on her home planet. 

Now… well. Duck can’t even start piecing together what “now” is. Now Minerva lives with him, Ned carries a cane, the lightning worm is getting farther and farther from the gate every day. Duck just made dinner for two because Indrid showed up unannounced. And maybe he wants Indrid to stay. 

Just as that thought crosses Duck’s mind, a knock sounds on the door.

“It is me,” Minerva says.

Duck gets up to open the door. “What’s up?”

“I was sent by Leo to retrieve extra blankets,” Minerva says.

“Oh, yeah, lemme get those,” Duck says.

He goes over to the hall closet and rifles around for the stack of spare blankets he keeps. He grabs a couple and brings them back to the door.

Minerva is standing just inside the doorway, petting a smug Toaster. Indrid is sitting perfectly still at the kitchen table, looking down at his plate, as if that would camouflage him from Minerva’s view.

“Here ya go,” Duck says, handing them over.

“Thank you,” Minerva says, “Have a good night!”

“You too,” Duck says.

Minerva leaves again, and Duck shuts the door behind her.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” Duck says. He doesn’t know what exactly he’s sorry for.

“It’s alright,” Indrid says, picking at his food.

“So, um do you— I mean, are you gonna be helping us with the hunt?” Duck asks, sitting back down at the table.

“Yeah,” Indrid replies, “I’m not joining the Pine Guard, but, you know. I’m one of two spellcasters at your disposal, so I’d hate to leave you all to die.”

“That’s a reassuring way to put it,” Duck says.

“I’m sorry, I’m not a very reassuring person,” Indrid says, sounding genuinely apologetic.

“Nah, you’re good. I’m just… still trying to process everything,” Duck says.

Indrid looks like he’s about to say something, but doesn’t. Instead, he shoves some pasta in his mouth and starts fiddling with his glasses.

“You alright?” Duck asks.

“Yeah,” Indrid responds, looking up. “Um, this is going to be a weird question, but how do you feel about bugs?”

It is way off topic, but Duck has no reason not to answer. “They’re alright. I mean, some are cooler than others, fuck bark beetles in particular, but pollinators are pretty cool. I dunno if that’s the answer you’re looking for, but…”

“It’s a fine answer,” Indrid says, staring somewhere to Duck’s right.

“Does this have to do with the abominations? ‘Cause I heard from Minerva, they’re coming from her sister planet, which was mainly occupied by insect-like folks, who then turned into the light figures,” Duck asks.

“...Yeah, actually, that’s what it was, good guess,” Indrid says. He suddenly stands up. “Thank you for dinner, it was delicious. I have to go now, I’ll talk to you soon.”

Duck’s stomach sinks way farther than it should. At most, he should be at ‘pool float that a raccoon got on’ levels, not this ‘just dropped a brick of lead into the well’ feeling.

“Alright, uh, have a good night,” Duck says.

“You too.”

And then Indrid is gone. Duck leans back in his chair with a sigh. Just when things are starting to look up, he has to go and get his feelings involved.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Duck nearly died, but he got over it. Now it's up to him to assemble the intergalactic worm removal squad, and get this thing taken care of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the wonky upload schedule and short chapter, im in the process of graduating and it's taking up far too much time. but i think this one is good, and it'll lead into even more epic things. have fun!

Duck wakes up on January 2 to a phone call.

He stumbles out of bed to pick it up.

“Hey Duck, it’s Mama, we’re having a Pine Guard meeting today at eleven,” Mama greets.

“Alright, I’ll be there,” Duck replies.

“Are you doing alright? I heard about what happened,” Mama asks.

“Yeah, I’m good. I’m real tough, and Minerva gave me a stats buff or something,” Duck says.

“That’s good to hear,” Mama says.

“Did I tell you she’s on Earth now?” Duck says.

“She’s what now.”

“I’ll bring her to the meeting, we can explain it all then,” Duck says.

“That’d be smart,” Mama says, “See ya soon.”

“See ya.” Click. 

Duck sighs. He looks at the half-filled injury reports on the kitchen table. Those can wait. He goes to get ready.

A shower and fresh clothes later, Duck dials the phone again.

“Juno Divine speaking,” Juno picks up.

“Hey, you wanna grab coffee before the PG meeting?” Duck asks.

“Yeah, sure, I’ll be there in ten,” Juno says.

“Cool, see you in a bit.”

Click.

Duck finishes getting ready, grabs his keys and jacket, puts on his boots and heads out. It’s not a long walk to the Kepler Cup. He has to come back to pick up Minerva anyway.

The walk is short. Out the front door, across the small parking lot, down the road, turn left, end of the stree. Duck doesn’t really the cold. He does feel the weird looks that folks are giving him, especially as he steps into the warmth of the cafe. He still hasn’t dyed his hair back, so he probably looks pretty wild. Usually, Duck did his best to hide his more goth side.

“Howdy,” Juno waves from the couch, “I got you your drink.”

“Thanks.” Duck sits down next to her and takes his drink. “How’s it going?”

“Oh, y’know. Alright for a hunt week,” Juno shrugs, “Yourself?”

“Pretty good, all things considered,” Duck says.

“I like the hair,” Juno says.

Duck pulls on a strand of pink. “Should I keep it?”

“Why not?”

“I could think of a couple reasons.”

“You can’t exactly get fired, Duck.”

“Nah, but I don’t like folks looking at me all the time.”

“I mean, just stand next to Minerva all the time, no one’ll give a shit what you look like,” Juno suggests.

“What, so Kepler can think I brought in a LARPing squad? Between Indrid and Minerva, I’m two for two on friends with obscure aesthetics,” Duck remarks.

“Not to mention Aubrey and Ned. And me,” Juno says, “So folks won’t even think they’re that weird.”

“That’s true.” Duck drinks his coffee.

“So tell me how you and Indrid made up? Maybe made out?” Juno asks, “Leo says he saw him leave your apartment last night.”

“Well now hold on, none of that, no— we’re friends, like, he’s— he came over for dinner, to see how I was doing,” Duck says.

“It’s okay to like him, Duck,” Juno says.

“I mean, sure, but like, we’re in the middle of a monster hunt, even if I was into him you think I would worry about that now?” Duck asks.

“Yeah I do, actually, ‘cause you need some kinda psychic break and he’s a psychic who could break you,” Juno says.

Duck keeps his mind decidedly  _ out _ of that rabbit hole. “I’m more responsible than that.”

“Exactly. You never break the rules. I mean, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, but he seems to like you. Maybe hook up with him, it’d do you good,” Juno says.

“I hate this conversation and also you,” Duck says, “You know there’s a real chance that he can see this conversation?”

“Yeah, well, maybe he’ll make the first move. Maybe last night was him tryna make the first move,” Juno says.

“He wouldn’t do that in the middle of a hunt either,” Duck argues.

“He’s been here for two weeks, you have no way of knowing that,” Juno says.

“He asked me how I felt about bugs,” Duck says.

“And you said?” Juno prompts.

“I said sure, they’re alright. I don’t have strong bug opinions, except for bark beetles,” Duck says.

“You think maybe he’s the Mothman?” Juno grins.

“What? Why would he be the Mothman?” Duck asks incredulously.

“I’m just saying, we ain’t seen him in the same room as the Mothman, you never know,” Juno shrugs, sipping her coffee.

“That’s ridiculous.” Duck drinks his coffee too. “Hey, have you talked to Sarah at all?”

“You tryna turn this around on me?” Juno raises an eyebrow.

“Nah, it’s just, I talked to her yesterday. Actually, she saw me and Minerva on our way to Leo’s place. I sorta… nudged her in your direction, I wanted to know if she actually did anything,” Duck says.

“I don’t need a wingman,” Juno deflects.

“I know, but I had to say something to keep her from interrogating me about my new alien friend,” Duck says.

“Oh, yeah, I may or may not have told her some stuff about… everything,” Juno says.

“I know. I mean, it was bound to happen, if y’all are ever gonna get together,” Duck says.

“We won’t,” Juno says.

“Well don’t say that, you don’t know that,” Duck says, “You’d be surprised.”

“Did she say something?” Juno asks, immediately alert.

“I mean, she apologized to me about the whole ‘thinking you and I were dating’ thing, so like she was definitely jealous,” Duck says.

“Maybe she’s just jealous that we stuck together after college,” Juno says.

“Right, but she knew that was happening, she knew we were both staying in Kepler. Hell, she wasn’t even that far away,” Duck says.

“I don’t know,” Juno sighs.

“It’s alright, I’m not tryna rush you. I’m just saying you don’t gotta be all doom and gloom about it,” Duck says.

“Maybe once all this is over I can think about it clearly,” Juno says.

“Yeah,” Duck agrees. Is it petty to want the monster dead because it’s bottlenecking the amount of romantic tension they’re allowed to experience? Sure, but the thing tried to kill him, so he’s allowed.

“Speaking of which, should we get going?” Juno asks.

“Yeah, I gotta pick up Minerva, so I’m gonna run back home. I’ll see you there?” Duck replies, standing up.

“Alright, be safe,” Juno says, picking up her purse. “See you in a bit.”

They leave the cafe and split off in separate directions. Duck hurries home, letting a little bit of superhuman strength speed him up. Hopefully Leo told Minerva about the meeting and she’s ready to go, because Duck realizes he didn’t tell her ahead of time. 

He steps into the apartment building, and to his relief, Minerva and Leo are waiting there.

“Hey, y’all coming to the meeting?” Duck asks.

“Yeah, I was waiting to see if you wanted to carpool,” Leo says.

“For sure, I’m ready to go if y’all are?” Duck replies.

“Let us go!” Minerva says, “I admit, I am excited to meet all of your little monster hunting friends.”

“Me too,” Duck says. He selfishly hopes that Minerva doesn’t embarrass him in the way that moms do when they meet their kid’s friends.

They all traipse out of the apartment building to go to Duck’s truck. When they get there, there’s a fourth party member.

“Hey Indrid, what’s up?” Duck greets. He’s a little surprised, but he knows what Indrid wants.

“I want to go to the Pine Guard meeting,” Indrid says, standing up from where he was leaning on the driver side door with his arms crossed.

“Alright, hop in,” Duck says.

“We can’t just take him with us, what’ll Mama think?” Leo says.

“It’ll be fine, he can help us,” Duck says.

“I’m not here to replace you, Leo,” Indrid remarks.

“I wasn’t worried about that,” Leo says gruffly.

Duck looks over to see Minerva already getting in the passenger seat. He pushes through the argument. “Look, everyone get in the car, we’re not fighting right now.”

Indrid immediately climbs in the closest door, forcing Leo to walk all the way around to the other side. Duck just gets into the driver’s seat and starts the car.

“Seatbelts,” Duck reminds. Everyone clicks their seatbelts into place.

Duck starts the drive. He can hear Indrid and Leo whispering back and forth in the backseat. It’s fine, let them work it out, he can ignore it. In fact, he turns up the radio to drown them out. By the time he gets on the road Amnesty Lodge is at the top of, he doesn’t even notice it.

That is, until Minerva turns around in her seat and says, “What disagreement could possibly be so important that you have to fight each other at a time like this?”

That gets them to shut up. Duck watches them look out their respective windows in the rearview mirror. As much as he respects both of them, he does not understand what their beef is.

The slience lasts almost to the top of the hill, when Leo whispers, “Look at that, you managed to make Minerva angry.”

“Okay, we’re here,” Duck practically shouts. He pulls quickly into the parking lot and parks by the cellar door.

Everyone gets out of the car and follows Duck down the back staircase to the basement. Leo brings up the rear to close the door, but he doesn’t look happy about it. Duck pretends not to notice the layers of tension building up around him like sedimentary rock.

“Y’all made it,” Mama greets.

“Nice to see you too,” Leo grumbles.

Duck scans the room. Aubrey, Ned, and Barclay are scattered anxiously across the room. They look relieved that Duck actually showed up. Juno is there too, of course, but she isn’t fazed by him or his entourage.

“Hey Mama, this is Minerva. Minerva, this is Mama, she’s kind of in charge of the operations around here,” Duck introduces, ignoring the stares.

Minerva and Mama size each other up. Duck hopes that they like each other, because Kepler could not handle if the two most powerful people he knows were at odds.

“Pleased to meet you,” Mama says, reaching out for a handshake.

“The pleasure is mine,” Minerva replies, shaking her hand.

Mama looks impressed. “I look forward to hearing your side of the story.”

“Of course,” Minerva says.

Duck clears his throat, causing both women to look back at him. “And this is Indrid, I’ve told you about him.”

Indrid does a little finger wave that jangles the bracelets on his wrist. Next to Minerva, he looks like a camp counselor for ex-twinks. Duck wishes Indrid would show more of his intimidating side in front of the monster-hunting team, but he knows he has no control over Indrid’s machinations.

Mama looks entirely unimpressed. “So, shall we get started? Let’s go over just what the fuck y’all were doing at the telescope yesterday.”

“Right, so Minerva came to Earth, as you can see, and Indrid was the one who knew where and when that would be. So me and Leo went with him to pick up Minerva and help her disguise her spacecraft and stuff so folks didn’t get any ideas, and the lightning worm showed up. We fought it off long enough to get Minerva on the ground, but I got kinda fucked up trying to keep everyone alive,” Duck explains.

“Why’s your hair pink?” Aubrey asks. Mama looks at her. “What? It wasn’t like that the other day.”

“It is because of my influence,” Minerva says, “When I open a link with one of my Chosen, their DNA changes to account for the new abilities and stresses on their body. One side effect of that is the shift from melanin to a new compound that is able to absorb the excess energy generated by their bodies. Hence the hair and the heterochromia.”

“That’s badass,” Aubrey says.

“Quite,” Minerva nods.

“I mean, you gotta look the part,” Duck says, “Fake it ‘til you make it sorta thing.”

“That’s true,” Leo nods.

“So what is your connection to all this?” Barclay asks.

Minerva takes a deep breath. “My sister planet is the one sending the abominations.”

Barclay’s eyebrows shoot up. In fact, most of the room seems surprised by this.

“It is partially my responsibility, so I wanted to help in any way I can. And I have reason to believe that inhabitants of that planet are coming to invade Earth soon,” Minerva finishes.

Now even the originally unperturbed people look concerned.

“Well shit,” Mama says, “We got a timeframe on that or…?”

“Within a year, I am sure,” Minerva says.

“Great!” Mama exclaims.

“We need to weaken them as they come. I think that the abomination you all have been facing is an attempt by them to weaken your infrastructure,” Minerva says.

“So we need to get the lightning worm dead before they get here?” Mama asks.

“Yes,” Minerva says.

Everyone starts discussing strategies for how to best kill this monster.

Ned leans towards Duck. “Is this for real?”

“Yeah man,” Duck replies quietly.

“I don’t think I’m qualified for all this,” Ned admits.

“None of us are,” Duck says.

“Maybe not, but you’ve all got superpowers. I’m just a guy who lies my way into things I shouldn’t get into,” Ned says.

“That’s a superpower,” Duck points out.

“You don’t understand, Duck. No amount of disguises or fake artifacts is gonna protect me from a damn alien invasion,” Ned says. He twirls his cane with a fluorish. “I know I don’t look it, but I’m not young and spry enough to fight these things.”

“Look, don’t worry about it. Mama isn’t magic either, and she’s doing just fine,” Duck says, “You have a cane and a gun and a good eye for danger and escape plans. That’s enough to get you out alive.”

“But… what if it’s not enough to only get myself out alive?” Ned asks.

Duck knows that line of doubt. “It’s not your job to be the hero. I mean, you already have been, but you know what I mean. You got a different archetype. We don’t all get to be the action hero.”

“You do,” Ned says enviously.

“I wish I didn’t, Ned, honest to god. I wish I never even heard of a single damn monster in my whole life,” Duck says.

“If you two are done gossipping, we got a monster to kill,” Mama interrupts.

Duck turns back to the room. Aubrey, Leo and Juno are crowded around the whiteboard.

“We have its abilities and weaknesses listed out, so at least we know its MO,” Barclay says, gesturing to the columns on the side.

“What we really need to know is where this thing is gonna hit next,” Mama says.

Indrid suddenly grips Duck’s shoulder, leaning back to seemingly stare into the ceiling light. The pressure of his hand is sudden, but not unwelcome. To be honest, Duck forgot that Indrid was there, with how quiet he’d been. He doesn’t know if he should be saying something right now. Mostly he’s just looking over at Indrid, following the line of his neck up to his mildly stunned expression.

Indrid snaps his head back down. “The water tower southeast of town. This evening, maybe around four. It’s specifically after me and Duck.”

“Well that’s handy,” Mama comments.

“Why haven’t you been doing this from the start?” Ned asks.

“I think you’ll remember I did, at both the Hornet’s Nest and the Pizza Hut,” Indrid counters.

“I never heard about any of that,” Ned says.

“I didn’t tell him you knew about Pizza Hut,” Duck says, “Actually Ned, how’d you think me and Aubrey showed up when we did?”

“I just thought you guys were looking out for me,” Ned says.

“Well, they were, just with some supernatural help,” Indrid says.

“Y’all can work this out later. We need a game plan,” Mama says.

“It looks very straightforward to me. One of us goes out there as bait, and the rest of us are waiting waiting as backup once the worm shows up,” Indrid says.

“I’ll do it,” Duck says.

“You nearly died  _ yesterday _ ,” Mama says.

“Yeah, well, we don’t got a lotta time to waste,” Duck says.

“Why can’t Indrid do it?” Ned asks.

“Because we need him alive,” Duck says.

“We need you alive too,” Aubrey counters.

“I survived an attack once, I can do it again if need be,” Duck says.

“Technically I survived one too,” Indrid says.

“When the worm was six feet, not twenty,” Duck points out.

“That’s true,” Indrid concedes.

“So is that what we’re doing?” Juno steps in.

“I guess so,” Mama says, “Meeting adjourned. Everyone rest up, ‘cause I swear to god we’re gonna get this thing tonight.”

~~⛆~~

Duck doesn’t know what he expected.

He’s standing by this water tower, just like Indrid said. It’s cold out here. Well, obviously, it’s early January. He’s standing by the base of the tower, under some pine trees. He can see all the way up to the top of the tower. It’s framed by the deep grey sky. Duck hopes it won’t start raining.

Indrid didn’t say exactly what would happen, so Duck is just waiting. As much as he loves being the bait, it’s kind of boring. The threat of attack is built into Duck’s psyche enough already, he’s not worried about it. Besides, backup is a loud yell away. The silence gives Duck time to think. That’s probably a bad thing, given how much time he’s already had to do that this past week. 

Something has to fill the silence of this white forest clearing, though, and the impression of Indrid’s hand is still weighing on Duck’s mind. It isn’t a big deal. Or is it? Duck isn’t touch starved, he knows that. But it was just weird. Indrid never did that cavalier kind of touch before. Maybe that’s him being nicer to Duck? But then he sent Duck out here on his own to wait for death again.

And yet Indrid came to the Pine Guard meeting in the first place? So he wants to help. Does he want to help Duck, though? Also, what is going on with him? Juno says he’s not a Sylph, and Minerva thinks he’s worth keeping an eye on. Indrid has been acting weird too. What was that bug question? Indrid didn’t seem very convicted in his response. Whatever. It’s not Duck’s business, no matter how desperately he wants to know.

As if on cue, light footsteps approach Duck from behind. Duck turns around.

“Would you mind if I waited with you?” Indrid asks.

“Not at all,” Duck replies.

“I realized almost immediately that, despite promising I would do more to protect you, I sent you out in the cold as bait,” Indrid admits.

“I don’t remember you making any kinda promise like that,” Duck says.

“It was mostly to myself,” Indrid says.

“You don’t gotta do that, y’know,” Duck says.

“You got hurt in my stead, I think it’s only fair I watch your back closer,” Indrid says.

“I can’t do this conversation again,” Duck says, “I appreciate your help, but I swear I’m alright.”

“You could be better than alright,” Indrid says, in the snarkily wistful clairvoyant voice that Duck hates that he likes.

“What are you, a genie? Gonna grant me three wishes and teach me a lesson about greed?” Duck replies.

“Maybe, if you would learn that you can take more than what you’re given. The universe is yours too, Duck,” Indrid says.

“Thank you daily horoscope,” Duck says. He hopes he’s not being too mean. “I got what I need, and I do what I have to. As far as monster hunters go, I’m actually pretty average. I don’t require much.”

"I mean, Duck, I... I think you're more capable than you give yourself credit for," Indrid says.

"What do you mean?" Duck frowns.

Indrid looks away, off towards the trees. "You know how, sometimes, when the sun is low, you can actually kind of see it through the trees?"

"I guess?"

"That's you right now. You're more subdued, and in this case I think the tree part is a literal thing. And it's okay to be subdued, it’s made you an incredibly kind person, but right now is not the time for that," Indrid says.

"Well, what do you expect me to do?" Duck asks. There's no bite behind it, he just genuinely doesn't know.

"Rise to the challenge," Indrid says, "Realize your full potential. You're more than just the Cho-sun."

Duck laughs. "Was this whole speech just so you could say that?"

Indrid smiles. "Maybe. But it got you to smile again, so I think it was worth it."

Something in Duck's stomach twists. "I thought I was supposed to be taking things seriously."

"You can take things seriously and still have fun. The sun that induces skin cancer is the same one that makes rainbows," Indrid says.

"Am I really the sun?"

"I don't see why not."

Then, suddenly but gently, Indrid loops his arm through Duck's and laces their fingers together. His hands are cold, Duck notices. He also notices that his own legs feel shaky and his face is hot. This is fine. This is normal. Indrid probably does this with all his friends.

"What about you?" Duck tries to keep the conversation steady despite his nerves. "I mean, what kind of metaphor should I make for your pep talk?"

Indrid snickers. "I don't know, but it should end in a bad joke."

Duck smiles. "Of course."

He thinks about that for a minute. Indrid is smart, and funny, and surprisingly kind and helpful when he wants to be. But he's also got a major guilt complex and he's flaky as hell. Also, he’s pressed the entire side of his body against Duck’s, so that’s impairing Duck’s judegement. He wants whatever he says to be as flattering as Indrid's thing, but he's not good at coming up with stuff on the spot. He still wants to try.

"Okay, uh— if you could ignore whatever your visions are telling you, this is gonna be— I'm not good at off the cuff literary masterpieces," Duck starts.

"I'm honored that you're willing to try," Indrid says.

That was not the answer Duck was expecting, and it throws him off. "Uh— well, you know how the, um, how the moon, on nights when it's really cloudy, it ends up being really bright, but only for the time it's not covered by clouds?"

"Yeah," Indrid says, staring forward at the water tower. 

Duck sees a hint of a smile on his face, so he keeps going. "I think that's you. You're bright, like, intellectually and with your abilities, but you keep hiding. The clouds can be, I dunno, your fears, your hesitation, whatever works best."

"Are you saying the moon is responsible for clouds?" Indrid asks, looking over at him. Duck knows he's deflecting.

"In a roundabout way it is, if you think about it," Duck says, "But I just mean, y'know, it's really cloudy in general right now. We could use some of your light."

Indrid smiles. He finally looks over at Duck. "You didn't do a bad joke."

"Fuck, man, you want me to be nice and funny at the same time?" Duck says.

"You can be mean," Indrid says.

"I don't want to be," Duck says.

"Of course you don't," Indrid says, "You're still in the trees."

"You're still in the clouds," Duck says.

"That's the spirit," Indrid grins.

Duck shoulders him a little. Indrid shoulders him back. They both laugh. For a few peaceful moments, Duck is happy to stand here, with Indrid siphoning away his warmth.

Suddenly, but predictably, Duck’s ears pick up a buzzing noise. 

Indrid sighs. “Duck, can I ask you two favors?”

“Sure, what’s up?” Duck asks.

Indrid lets go of Duck’s hands and grabs the sides of his glasses. “First, um, can you hold my glasses for me?”

Duck frowns. “Yeah, of course. What’s the second one?”

Indrid picks up Duck’s open hand. He takes his glasses off and drops them in Duck’s hand. Except it’s not Indrid who puts them in Duck’s hand. It’s an eight-foot-something humanoid moth unfurling their giant, striking wings.

“Forgive me?”


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Duck will be the chosen master, he will leave with the guy this time. He will be the leading actor, movie of his own design.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we've made it!! i lied about 11 chapters its actually 10 BUT! yall are gonna get a sequel soon! more about that at the end.  
> it's been a fun 6 months, taking duck on my evil and wacky rollercoaster.  
> warnings for: canon-typical fighting, morally challenging backstory

Duck has experienced a couple major shifts in his paradigm throughout his life.

The first time, he was fifteen years old. He had just found out that one could be a gender other than what they were assigned as a baby, and that heterosexuality was not the be-all-end-all of relationships. That was a big one for him, but in the scheme of things it wasn’t even a real change.

The second time, he was eighteen years old, and Minerva had just shown up and revealed the existence of extraterrestrial and supernatural life forms. That really threw him, and it changed the course of his life forever.

The third time was a week ago when Minerva revealed the truth about herself and the abominations, before leaving on a possibly deadly journey. At that point, he was forced to actually think for himself on what he was supposed to do with his life. It was rough, but ultimately it seems to have worked out.

This moment isn’t like any of those. No, instead it feels like the opposite. This is the coalescence of all those earth-shattering revelations. 

Standing here, seeing Indrid as the glowing insectoid that he really is. Watching frozen as he takes off towards the lightning worm. The freezing water of a thousand little realizations being dumped over his head. This is what all that was leading up to.

A numb sense of dread and foolishness washes over Duck. Of course Indrid is a light being. Of course he’s the real, actual Mothman. Of course he’s scared of Duck actually being mad at him. Duck feels like an idiot for not putting the pieces together sooner. But more than that, he feels like an asshole for letting Indrid think this is his fault.

All these thoughts are drowned out by the metallic groan of electricity through old sheet metal. Duck looks up. Indrid is soaring above the water tower, drawing the worm up into the sky. His glasses weigh heavy in Duck’s hand. Duck tucks them into his pocket.

“Where do you want me?” Duck shouts.

“I can handle this,” Indrid yells back.

“You’re not going to,” Duck argues.

“We don’t have time for this.” 

Indrid swoops down suddenly. He’s holding a string of red light in his hands. He circles the water tower once, twice, three times, creating a lattice of supernatural twine around the top of the water tower.

Then Indrid says something that sounds like “I’m not fucking around anymore” but Duck is too far away to tell if that’s what he actually said.

Indrid wraps the end of his dimensional silk around his wrist and thumb and yanks it, launching himself backwards through the air. He looks so graceful, like he’s done this a thousand times. The grid tightens into a cocoon, one that pulls right through the lightning worm like a wire slicer. The worm lets out an electronic screech that makes Duck see stars.

“Fuck!” Indrid shouts. He races around the water tower again, trailing a net of light. 

The lightning worm lashes out, making Indrid recoil. Indrid curses and tries again, this time driving the net home around the monster. The worm hisses like a thousand overheating computers, but it doesn’t seem to be damaged.

“Is that not enough?” Duck asks.

“Go get Aubrey, I’ll hold it in place,” Indrid says.

Duck is already running back towards the trucks parked at the edge of the trees. “Aubrey!”

Aubrey charges forward out of Mama’s truck, arms already ignited. “What’s the plan?”

“I don’t know, Indrid just told me to get you,” Duck says. 

“What’s going on?” Leo shouts from Duck’s truck.

Duck waves at the remaining group. “Y’all move in, we got it locked in place.”

“On it,” Mama says. 

She starts up her truck and starts out through the trees. Barclay and Ned hold tight in the bed. Leo follows her in Duck’s Forest Service truck, with Juno grimacing in the passenger seat. Duck squashes the thoughts of how much damage those tires are doing to the ground cover. The lightning worm is kind of a way bigger problem. 

Duck and Aubrey run back to the clearing. Indrid is still hovering above the water tower, holding the worm with his red light. 

He lowers himself slightly and instructs, “I need you to do that magic again, Aubrey.”

“Wait, you’re the Mothman?!” Aubrey exclaims, “Duck, did you know he was the Mothman?”

“Not until a couple minutes ago,” Duck replies.

“Listen, we can talk about that later, this is kind of time-sensitive,” Indrid says, “But it’s less resistant to your magic than it is to mine.”

Aubrey nods determinedly. She plants her feet in a lunge and starts summoning that deep orange glow from a few nights ago. Duck is impressed at how quickly she was able to master that spell. Aubrey expands the orb of light in her hands and looks up. Indrid wraps the red light around the worm one more time.

Then Aubrey launches the construct at the worm. It arcs up into the sky, phasing through the water tower. As it surrounds the worm, it oscillates for a moment, wrapping it in a capsule of energy. The worm thrashes against the confinement. Aubrey clenches her hands, trying to keep the closure together.

Indrid glides down to the ground. “Duck, are you ready?”

“For what?” Duck frowns.

“I’m going to hold you up in the air and you are going to beat it to death with Beacon,” Indrid says.

“Like hell I am,” Duck says.

“Minerva is on her way, she’ll see you, her presence will imbue you with enough natural armor— I don’t have time to explain,” Indrid says frantically, “I know it’s a lot to ask, but please just trust me.”

Duck sighs. “You already know I do.”

“Take all that anger you feel towards me right now and toss it as this thing. You can punch me in the face later,” Indrid says. He extends his four arms as if he’s about to lift some heavy furniture. “I’m going to throw you on the count of three.”

Duck draws Beacon. As much as he resents this, he can feel an extra hum of power coursing through him. He gives Beacon a test swing.

“Duck Newton, this is a mistake, you remember what happened last time,” Beacon warns, panicked. “You cannot simply follow the orders of any tall goth you meet.”

“We don’t got much other choice, ‘less you wanna get turned into a big surge protector,” Duck hisses.

Beacon falls silent in a pout.

Indrid approaches Duck and starts casting some kind of wind spell around him. “One. Two. Three.”

And then Duck is catapulted into the air, weightless and terrified. 

He isn’t necessarily scared of heights, but as far as he can see there’s nothing supporting him up here. It’s just Indrid’s faith in him against the laws of physics. Still, or maybe because of that, an undercurrent of reckless pride drives him forward. 

Duck rips Beacon through the air, slashing down at the contained electric beast. 

His arms tingle with static and something else, something from inside himself. He can see blue light like the base of a flame growing up his arms and along Beacon’s edges. It burns especially bright over the fresh electric scars.

A spark of blue on white, and the orange casing explodes. The worm screeches again. Duck is pushed backwards, but he isn’t falling yet. Beacon is sputtering and cursing. Duck swings the sword at the worm again.

And again. And again. And again. And again. Fuck, this thing is hard to kill.

Then Duck gets an idea. He’s no magic user, but everything has been pretty intuitive so far. If he can focus all this kickass new power into his arms, he might be able to get a big kinetic burst off on this thing. He shuts his eyes, which probably isn’t smart, and feels all the metaphysical blue sparkles coming off him gather at his wrists. 

Finally, Duck opens his eyes. 

He positions himself, takes a deep breath, and slams the hilt of Beacon down on the lightning worm’s head.

It explodes. Static crackles as sparks fly in all directions. Duck is pulled backwards quickly as malicious bolts zip down the legs of the water tower and into the mud below. It all fizzles out as he is lowered back to the ground.

When Duck finally touches down again, he feels like a new man.

A new man with skewed balance, that is. He stumbles forward on impact and Indrid catches him by the arm.

“You did it,” Indrid says, looking down at him with an expression that might be fondness. It’s hard to tell, because Duck was only just learning his human facial expressions. 

“Hell yeah!” Aubrey cheers, running over to hug Duck. “Woah, dude, you’re glowing.”

“For real?” Duck asks.

“Yeah, it’s quite striking, actually,” Indrid says.

The rest of the Pine Guard sprints onto the scene.

“Holy shit,” Mama starts.

“That was, to put it plainly, super badass,” Ned says.

“I didn’t know you could do that,” Barclay says.

“I didn’t know either,” Duck says, scratching the back of his neck. “Are we sure it’s dead though?” 

“It is as dead as it can be,” Indrid says, “You didn’t even give it the chance to return to its base form.”

“Is that good or bad?” Duck asks.

“It’s efficient,” Indrid says.

Mama eyes Indrid’s new look. “You got an upgrade too then?”

“I’ll just say I’m the Mothman, no need to beat around the bush,” Indrid says.

“Yeah, so what is with that? Like, is that just— are we cool with that?” Aubrey asks.

“You cannot post a selfie with me on instagram. It wouldn’t even work, because I don’t pick up well on camera. This is basic cryptozoology, Aubrey,” Indrid says.

“I was just checking,” Aubrey says defensively.

“I’m sorry, I cannot be a clout farm for you,” Indrid says. He suddenly stiffens.

Minerva walks up. “I knew that I recognized you.”

“Hello Minerva,” Indrid says, letting go of Duck’s arm. If it was possible for a giant moth creature to look sheepish, this would be it.

Minerva walks up to him. She’s the tallest humanoid of the group by far, and it shows. Indrid shrinks a little, despite having over a foot on her.

“At first, I was worried that you were here to hurt Duck and sabotage the Pine Guard’s operations,” Minerva says. She looks over at Duck. “As much as I care for my ward, he is incredibly trusting and sometimes foolish with his loyalty.”

“I did everything I could to prevent his trust,” Indrid says.

“I know you did. That was part of my worries. But I saw how upset you were when he was hurt. I saw you carry him to the hospital in full form,” Minerva explains, “That was a major risk, one that the Indrid I knew before never would have taken. I am sure you have changed for the better.”

“I… your confidence is appreciated,” Indrid replies.

“Besides,” Minerva smiles, going over to Duck and throwing her arms around him. “After seeing how well you and Duck work together in battle, who would I be to deny that?”

“We did do pretty good out there, huh,” Duck admits.

“You did good out there,” Indrid corrects, “I just pushed you in the right direction.”

“Well, I couldn’t’ve done it without you,” Duck says.

“None of this success could have happened if not for you,” Indrid counters.

“This is not a fight you’re gonna win, Indrid,” Juno butts in.

“I can see that,” Indrid says. He turns back to Duck. “Speaking of seeing, can I have my glasses back?”

“Oh yeah, sure,” Duck says. He pulls them out of his pocket, and they are luckily unharmed.

“Thank you.” Indrid takes them and puts them on, becoming the strange but ultimately human man that he was when Duck first met him.

Now everyone is just standing in a big circle at the edge of the clearing. If the lightning worm is really dead, they can all go home now.

“We should get dinner as a team, to celebrate,” Aubrey suggests.

“A team dinner sounds good,” Mama agrees.

“You think the Olive Garden would let me in looking like this?” Duck asks.

“I think they’d be hard pressed to stop you,” Juno says.

“You have just won a great battle, it is time to feast!” Minerva insists.

“I mean, yeah, let’s go,” Duck grins.

Everyone starts piling into the trucks again. After a minute, it’s just Duck and Indrid left in the snow.

“Are you coming?” Duck asks.

“You can go on without me,” Indrid says.

“You’re invited,” Duck says.

“Are you sure?” 

“Of course, we couldn’t have done any of this without you.”

“I’m sure you would’ve figured it out,” Indrid says.

“Not without losing a lot more,” Duck points out, “Come on. You don’t gotta officially join the team, I know you don’t want to, but at least get some food for your efforts.”

“To be honest, I was more worried that you wouldn’t like me after finding out who I really am,” Indrid says, “Wow, that was a terrible cliche thing to say.”

“Nah, I get it. I mean, I have questions, but those can wait. I am actually pretty damn starving after all that stunting,” Duck says.

“Well then we should get going,” Indrid smiles.

They both get into the backseat of Duck’s truck. Leo starts driving back towards the road.

A half hour later and one town over, they’re taking up the biggest table at the Olive Garden. Duck is sitting at one end of it, looking like some kind of fantasy benefactor to the collection of characters around him. He can’t even be self-conscious about it; this is his family. Also, he just used his superpowers to kick a big evil snake’s ass. He can get some damn breadsticks about it.

Everyone looks like they’re having a good time. Barclay and Ned are not-so-subtly holding hands and talking. Every now and then Leo will butt in with a correction to the story Barclay is telling. Ned keeps asking intentionally ridiculous questions that make Barclay genuinely laugh more than Duck has seen him do the entire time he’s known the guy.

Further down the table, Aubrey is asking Minerva a hundred questions a minute, with Mama intervening. Minerva seems happy to talk to her, though. Duck imagines that after decades of talking to only a couple of men, this is a refreshing change.

“You look like you’re emotionally resolving,” Indrid says from the seat to his left.

“Maybe so,” Duck says, “Why, you got anything you wanna add?”

“You were just looking at us all fondly. It’s sweet actually, I’ll stop interrupting,” Indrid says.

“I was actually thinking how we look like a Dungeons and Dragons party,” Duck snickers.

Indrid smirks. “Do you have a quest for us?”

“My quest for y’all is to stop having quests. A quest rest,” Duck says.

Indrid laughs. “I like a quest rest. I think you deserve one.”

“I’m gonna sleep for like a week, seriously, like, what I did was fun but I am wiped,” Duck says.

“Yeah, that’s totally understandable, you really pushed your limits,” Indrid says.

“That’s what you wanted, right?” Duck asks.

“Yes— well, I don’t want you to strain yourself, but I think you did a very good job,” Indrid says.

“Thank you,” Duck says, feeling something warm grip him by the rib cage. Indrid’s words mean a lot more to him than he was prepared for.

“Y’all gossiping over here?” Juno asks, saving Duck from the reality of his feelings.

“Yeah, I was saying we look like D&D characters,” Duck says.

“Okay nerd,” Juno teases.

“You played D&D before I ever did,” Duck says.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, I’m too pretty,” Juno says, examining her nails.

“You’re saying I don’t look like some kinda paladin that found out he’s actually a warlock?” Duck asks.

“I think you’d be better suited to be a cleric, actually,” Juno says.

“I got you,” Duck grins.

“Damn! Now everyone in this restaurant knows I’m a whole geek,” Juno says, shaking her head.

Duck laughs. “At least you didn’t get caught having feelings.”

“It’s not a bad thing,” Indrid says, “I’m sorry for calling you out.”

“It’s alright, I’m glad you got me before I tried to make a speech or something,” Duck says.

Juno raises an eyebrow. “Actually—”

“No way.”

“You’re no fun.”

“You want me to stutter for two minutes in front of this whole restaurant?” Duck says.

“I’m sure you could come up with something,” Indrid assures him.

“I would rather bury myself for the rest of winter,” Duck says.

“You had half a mind to do that anyway,” Juno says.

“Well what can I say, Juno? I am a bear,” Duck says.

Juno just laughs and shakes her head.

~~☀~~

Later, after their drawn-out celebration, everyone heads home. Duck takes Juno, Leo, Minerva and Indrid in his truck. He drops Juno off first with a promise to come by later. Then he drops Leo and Minerva off at the apartment building while they’re in the neighborhood. Last is Indrid, who (after a few minutes of politely aggressive back-and-forth) Duck insists on driving home.

“It’s really fine, Duck, it’s a far drive,” Indrid says.

“It’s an even farther walk. I’ve driven it plenty of times, I can be fast,” Duck says.

“But with the ice and snowmelt, it probably isn’t safe.”

“Indrid, I’ve been driving these roads my whole life, ‘safe’ is not an issue.”

“What if my future vision tells me you shouldn’t?”

“Then I’d know you were lying to me. I mean, if you really want, I can let you go here, but it’s not a problem for me to drive you. I know you’re not a fan of the cold.”

“I’ll stay in the car,” Indrid gives in.

Ten minutes later, they’re parked outside Indrid’s Winnebago. Neither of them move to get out.

“We’re here,” Duck says, feeling like a dad who just dragged his family into a fifteen-hour car trip.

“We are.” Indrid unbuckles his seatbelt. “Um, I know you made plans with Juno, but do you maybe want to come inside?”

“Sure,” Duck answers.

They both get out of the car and walk up to the steps of the camper. Indrid pulls out a key and opens the door. He steps inside and holds it open for Duck. Duck climbs the steps and stands awkwardly inside. The last time he was here, Indrid had a pressing prediction to tell him. Hopefully that isn’t the case time.

Indrid sheds his many jackets, leaving only a worn t-shirt with a band Duck has never heard of printed on it. It fits well across his shoulders, but hangs loose around his middle. An orange crystal hangs on a silver chain around his neck. Duck snaps his eyes away before he gets caught staring.

“You said you had questions,” Indrid says, leaning back against the counter with his arms crossed.

“Uh, a few,” Duck replies.

“Oh, where are my manners. Do you want something to drink? And uh, make yourself at home, have a seat wherever if you’d like,” Indrid says. He unfolds his slightly intimidating posture and stands by the fridge.

“I’m good, thank you,” Duck says. He sits down at the table.

Indrid sits down across from him. “I want to try and answer any questions that you have about… me, and my history.”

“I mean, it’s not a big deal,” Duck says. It is a big deal, but he doesn’t want Indrid to feel torn up about it.

“I think it is a little bit of a big deal, considering that I am one of the people who tried to destroy Minerva’s home world,” Indrid says.

“Well— is that— did you mean to?” Duck flounders.

“In the moment, yes. I was part of a unit trained in what you call magic, and our goal was to destroy as much livable space as possible. And while I was under a hivemind influence, that does not excuse my actions,” Indrid says.

“But you clearly didn’t want to do it,” Duck says.

“Maybe now, two centuries later. But even when… when scientists from Minerva’s planet were able to uninstall that conditioning, I did not act kindly towards them,” Indrid explains, “I remember meeting Minerva, who was there to see what options there were for rehabilitating the invading drones. I get the feeling that my actions influenced her decision not to continue that effort.”

“I mean, I don’t know what that was like, but you heard what Minerva said today. She forgave you. And you didn’t exactly choose to be in the hivemind, right?” Duck says.

“Of course not, but… I can’t help but feel responsible. Especially now that her home planet is lost to time and mine is dead set on taking over yours,” Indrid says.

“You’re here to help us stop them, though. That’s gotta count for something,” Duck says, “That’s why the lightning worm was targeting you, wasn’t it?”

“That is probably why,” Indrid nods, “And I’d like to think I’m helping. But the fact of the matter is I can’t undo what is already destroyed.”

“You are helping, and you’re preventing more destruction. That’s all anyone can ask of you at this point. Two centuries is a long time, and you’ve clearly changed.”

“I suppose so.”

“I mean, weren’t you in Sylvain?” Duck asks.

Indrid looks towards the shuttered window. “Yeah, but I wasn’t great there either. Sylvain herself gave me the additional power of foresight as soon as I entered the atmosphere, and I became the Court Scribe for it. It was easy to ascend the ranks of their bureaucracy, in the time before the Quell decided to ruin their little paradise. And then I fucked around instead of doing my job, and then ran off as soon as there was an opening to go to Earth because I couldn’t handle the responsibility.”

“I mean, after what you went through, I would understand that,” Duck says.

“What do you mean?” Indrid frowns.

“Well, if you go from one hierarchy to the next, where you’re supposed to do magic on someone else’s behalf, I’d imagine it would be hard to trust those motives,” Duck explains.

“I wasn’t actually doing it,” Indrid dismisses, “I was too busy getting shitfaced at socialite gatherings and sleeping around so I could absorb cultural context.”

“You had just escaped an intergalactic war and then got a high-stress public-facing job. No one would blame you for going on a bender or two.”

“Maybe not, if the Quell hadn’t been slowly gaining power. I was supposed to be stopping its progress.”

“But you didn’t know, it wasn’t a problem you already internalized.”

“I had a century to do it.”

“That’s not very long in the span of a planet’s arcane history.”

“I guess not.”

They lapse into silence. Duck stares down at the aged laminate of the table. Various drink rings and scratches mark its surface. Duck’s own freshly scarred hands and arms fit in well there. Indrid’s fingers beat ever so lightly against the edge of the table. His heavily chipped nail polish glitters under the incandescent light.

Duck thinks about what Indrid is saying. He knows he can’t fully grasp the nuance of the situation, especially two hundred years too late. Duck also knows that if he can excuse Minerva, he can excuse Indrid. In his heart, he knows he could never turn on either of them anyway. Not when the memory of Indrid’s hand on his shoulder is still so fresh in his mind.

Duck clears his throat. “Uh, Indrid, about earlier…”

“With the hand-holding and the sincerity and all that?” Indrid immediately replies.

“Yeah,” Duck laughs self-consciously. “Well, I was just— maybe— the thing is— look, I like you a lot, and I don’t want to pressure you into staying in Kepler, but did you maybe wanna go out sometime?”

Indrid smiles, but it’s the kind that Duck has come to recognize as a nervous defense. Not the genuine reassuring look Duck was hoping for. “Listen, Duck, I… I really want to say yes. I just don’t… the future is so turbulent, I can’t commit to something like this.”

“I mean, I get that. But look at what happened here, with the lightning worm and Minerva. All that worked out, even if it didn’t go how you thought it would,” Duck says.

“You mean where you were hospitalized because I lied to you?” Indrid counters.

“I still would have taken that hit for you,” Duck says.

“For the actual, genuine me? The one you only discovered a few hours ago? The one who is complicit in immeasurable devastation and finds it easier to lie than to breathe?” Indrid asks.

“Yeah, Indrid, for you. It doesn’t really matter to me what you were like in the past. Maybe that’s short-sighted, but as long as I’ve known you, I’ve only seen you trying to help,” Duck repeats.

Indrid laughs. “Duck, you’ve known me for a month at most. You barely know anything about me.”

“Well maybe I want to know more.”

Indrid is silent. Duck wonders if he crossed a line.

“I don’t know how to put this in a way that doesn’t make me sound like a total asshole,” Indrid sighs, “The thing about this is that you are a hero. Inarguably. You save people and you protect Earth. It’s literally your job and you’re very good at it. And I am not that! Not even a little bit! I am a vagabond at best. I know I serve a purpose for your monster hunting team, and I won’t abandon that cause just yet. But I really am not the person I made you think I am, and I would hate for you to find that out the hard way.”

“Indrid…” Duck reaches across the table and takes Indrid’s hand. Indrid doesn’t pull away. “I understand that you aren’t necessarily the hero here. I’ll take full responsibility for killing the monster. The point is that I couldn’t have done it without you. Even if you had ulterior motives or you were hiding stuff from me, at the end of the day you gave us the edge we needed so we didn’t get shocked to death. And you chose to do that.”

“I wasn’t going to at first,” Indrid says.

“But you did,” Duck points out.

“I only did it because of you,” Indrid says.

“That’s enough,” Duck says, “Even if you’re only doing it for me, you still made a difference.”

“My motivations were selfish and they still are,” Indrid tries.

“Well if liking me is selfish, I don’t mind much at all,” Duck says, “Maybe I need that to keep up the fight.”

“You have plenty of people who like you. Juno, Minerva, the whole Pine Guard,” Indrid points out.

“Yeah, but like… this is different. I ain’t felt this way about any of them,” Duck says.

“Felt what way?” Indrid asks, even though he definitely already knows.

“Like I’m in love with you,” Duck admits quietly.

Indrid seems to flicker out of existence for a moment. “What?”

Duck backtracks. “I mean— I don’t have to be. I just— the tension of battle, maybe, is getting to my head—”

“No, no, Duck, it’s okay, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to— I didn’t fully realize, I guess, that that could be true. But I’m not upset, I’m glad, because I am also in love with you,” Indrid says, taking both of Duck’s hands. “I have been for quite some time. Since that night in the ranger station, if I had to pinpoint it.”

“Really?” Duck replies, “I mean— you don’t gotta say.”

Indrid leans closer over their joined hands. “No, I mean it. Seeing you so willing to defend your home and your family, and hearing how you really are when you’re not playing the southern hospitality role, I knew that I really liked you. You’re smart and caring and brave and strong and at first I thought I was envious but really I’ve been in love with you about it.”

“That’s… thank you,” Duck says, and immediately regrets. He tries again. “I mean, I’ve been in love with you, probably since I woke up in the hospital and you were there. And after what Minerva said, about how you risked your whole cover just to get me there… you’re better than you give yourself credit for. I mean, you’re so good at this monster-hunting stuff when I feel like I’m just fumbling around. And you care, even when you’re scared to. You’ve made the past month bearable for me, both by being helpful and just by being yourself.”

“I’m glad,” Indrid says softly, “And I appreciate your kind words. It means a lot, especially coming from you.”

“I mean them,” Duck maintains, squeezing Indrid’s hands lightly. He wouldn’t do well to crush Indrid’s fingers right after admitting his feelings. “And I know what you said about the future being pretty damn uncertain right now. But I think you’ve seen by now how I’m willing to take risks for you.”

“I have seen, and while I can’t advise that I do appreciate it. I… I was being stubborn, when I said that before. I didn’t really think you felt the same,” Indrid says.

“You couldn’t see it?” Duck asks.

“Not really. I could technically tell you were going to say it, but I had very little idea of the lead-up or whether you meant it,” Indrid says.

“I do mean it, Indrid, I am in love with you,” Duck repeats.

“I’m in love with you,” Indrid replies.

“That’s cool,” Duck says.

Indrid laughs. “It is. Do you want to… do something about it?”

“Like kiss you?” Duck asks.

“That is what I was thinking,” Indrid says with a warm grin.

Duck smiles. He and Indrid both stand up and meet in the middle. Indrid’s arms wrap around Duck, and Duck’s hands land on Indrid’s waist. At this (lack of) distance, Duck has to look up to meet Indrid’s eyes.

Then Indrid bends down and kisses him, and Duck’s eyes slip shut. Indrid’s lips are soft but desperate. Duck kisses him just as determinedly. He wants Indrid to know that he wants him.

This goes on for a little bit. Indrid’s hand comes up to cup Duck’s jaw, and Duck’s hands move up toward Indrid’s shoulders. Indrid doesn’t need to breathe, but he pulls back every now and then when Duck gets a little too breathless.

Eventually, they pull apart.

“Now I know you said you wanted to go out,” Indrid says, “But would you be willing to stay in with me?”

Duck considers the offer. He did make plans with Juno, but he gets the feeling that as long as he calls her to explain, she will understand.

“Yeah, I’d love to,” Duck says.

~~☀~~

Duck had rescheduled his and Juno’s post-hunt hangout to the next day. They agreed on the Kepler Cup, as usual. Duck was lucky enough to get the couch before anyone else, and now he’s waiting there with his and Juno’s drinks.

Juno comes in and spots him. She sits down next to him and takes her drink. She doesn’t even say anything, just looks at him expectantly.

“What?” Duck asks innocently.

“You know damn well what,” Juno says.

“Oh right, how I stood you up for Mothman,” Duck says, “Sorry ‘bout that.”

“Honestly? I can’t even be mad. Like I’m a little betrayed, but I get it,” Juno says, “You stayed the night, so it must have been worth it.”

“Yeah,” Duck says noncommittally.

“So?” Juno prods.

“It was way worth it,” Duck says, face warming from the memory. “He… he’s great. I like him a lot.”

“I told you so,” Juno says.

“I never said I didn’t, I said not until the hunt’s over,” Duck says.

“You didn’t waste much time after,” Juno teases.

“Yeah, well. I didn’t have reason to, and it’s not like we got a lotta guaranteed time,” Duck says.

“Did he happen to tell you any more about that while you were with him?” Juno asks.

“Not really, just kind of using it as an excuse for not emotionally committing,” Duck says, “I mean I won him over, of course, but you know.”

“Right.” Juno sighs.

“Don’t you think you should talk to Sarah, if the world might end soon?” Duck asks.

“I mean…” Juno trails off. She’s looking out the window.

Just then, Sarah herself walks in the door. She sees them on the couch and makes a beeline for them.

“I thought you guys would be here,” Sarah says.

“We’re kinda predictable,” Duck says.

“Sure,” Sarah says. She seems frantic. “There’s something I need to talk to you guys about, and it’s kind of very important.”

“What’s that?” Juno asks, concerned.

“I think I accidentally saw aliens on their way to Earth,” Sarah says, “And more worryingly, they saw me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fear not! this will not be the last time we see these folks! sometime soon i will begin a yet unnamed junosarah-centric fic following our favorite gals on their own wacky adventures! so keep an eye out for that!


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